After the legalisation of same-sex marriage, I attended the gorgeous wedding of two friends in the crypt of the House of Lords. It was a straight event but the bride wore gold Vivienne Westwood and the chaplain barely blinked an eye at a succession of gay bridesmen walking her down the aisle, so there were at least flourishes nodding towards the passing of recent legislation.
Maybe it was the setting. Or the random fact that one of the bridesmen turned on Grindr in the vestry afterwards and began impromptu correspondence with an excitable stranger in the chamber. But gay marriage felt touchingly close that day, at almost sacred proximity.
