We headed up to Findeln to take a few photos and grab a quick lunch with Dumbfunk and keksofant who had agreed at the last moment to be our best man and best woman. (We hadn’t asked before because we didn’t realise it was going to be that sort of wedding either).
They had burgers, I went for the hay soup, washed down with a glass of Dole Blanche.
“How come you’re not nervous?” Keks asked as we nibbled and sipped and I set Vlad up for a self-portrait. We were leaving in a couple of hours for the registry office, where we’d sign some forms and become legally married.
“It’s not our wedding – it’s just the paperwork,” we said as we set off down the trail for Zermatt.
How wrong we were.
The registrar told us that it was only the second service he’d conducted in English. He was more nervous than we were.
“I’m not going to tell you about love,” he said, “you already know about love, but I am going to tell you a story about a fox and a rose and a little prince.”
And as he read the story I thought about my copy of the book on our bookshelves at home, and just what that book means to us. We have a history with the Little Prince. It’s not the first time he’s taught us something.
And though that registrar had never met us before and didn’t know anything more than some bald facts written in black ink on the application forms, he couldn’t have chosen a better story for us about love, about our life together so far.
So do you know what I did? Of course you do.