We flew BA to Heathrow, the flight was so full that they had no seats left in Economy and we had to sit in Business Class. Bit of a shame as I always enjoy that “back in the womb” feeling when the guy in front puts his chair back and I only have space to inflate one lung at a time.

From the airport we took a bus to Reading. Health and safety regulations in the UK are so extreme now that you weren’t allowed to use a mobile phone in the first four rows of seats, in case it disturbs the driver. If you tried to undo your seatbelt to tie your shoes, an alarm went off and an armed bus marshall beat you with a rubber hose.

We stayed at Emma’s parents on the first night and had a look around their lovely new home (more on that later in the week)- then the next day Emma’s mum was driving up to Durham. The route pretty much took her past my parents house in Doncaster (England is small) so Mrs Emma offered to drop us off on her way, and I suggested she call in to meet my folks.

Emma didn’t seem keen on that for some reason; maybe she thought they would get into a fist-fight over the last slice of Battenberg cake or dowry negotiations- but sense prevailed and our parents ended up talking for ages over tea and sticky buns about how great I am and how lucky Emma is to have me (either that or house prices and the education system, I forget now).