In August, I married the boy I have loved since we were 17. We met in Dartmoor national park, training for the Ten Tors event with our respective schools. How there was any attraction when we all looked our personal worst, I will never understand. But I guess that’s the beauty of the moors.
He grew up on a farm in Devon, and in many ways it was there that we grew up together. I never wanted a wedding of any extravagance, and shied away from the attention it meant. But as months rolled on, the world got hotter, people got sicker, and life felt finite and immediate. I soon realised that to deny the people I loved most in the world the distraction not just of unity – but the very possibility of it – was to deny joy, and reject hope.
