Just as planned: Wedding is the party of a lifetime (with great music, too)

This entry was written after returning from Honeymoon, but posted on the date the activity described concluded.

Throughout the wedding planning months, Piers and I were captivated by a game show called "Four Weddings", in which four brides each attend the others' ceremony and reception and rate it to name a winner. Every bride always believes hers is the best wedding, and is incredulous when someone else wins.

I know how they feel.

My wedding day was perfect. It fulfilled fantasies I'd been concocting since my Disney princess days. The ceremony was grand, the reception elegant, the groom looked like a prince, everyone had a great time, everything went to plan. Let me tell you about it...

From the bridal perspective, the day started with breakfast at the Lansdowne Club, where the reception would later be. We started hair and make up at 8:45 in order to be ready by 12:30. Beauty is hard work.

The highlight of the morning: my lovely husband-to-be getting Classic FM to do a long dedication to us, noting how we met through the station's dating web site, how we loved (but debated over) opera, and wishing us well. Fortunately, this happened before my make up started, so I could cry all I wanted over E lucevan le stelle.

By mid-day I was kitted out in my bridal finery. Something old: Mom's wedding dress. Better than anything I saw on the market, the 1962 lines were elegant, demure and sophisticated. Something new: Diamond and sapphire earrings I had made to match the coming wedding ring. Something borrowed: The Hannegan family pearls. Something blue (and borrowed): Hannah Wright's garter. The BT-branded taxis turned up on time and traffic was non-existent, leaving us to wait around the corner from the church for 20 minutes so we weren't too early. Meanwhile Piers, resplendent in his new morning suit and Favourbrook waistcoat, was having a pub lunch with the boys and his family at the Duke of Wellington.

We had spent a great deal of time planning the service and it was, I believe, as magical and otherworldly as we had hoped. Certainly that's been the feedback from guests who, even if they weren't church goers, appreciated the drama and the majesty of "high church" ceremony. The sunny day meant that the nave was filled with light, colours from the stained glass reflecting on floors and walls while the gold on the altar and the clerics' copes glistened. Father David's sermon was masterful, poking fun at us for choosing "Simple Gifts" as our hymn for a ceremony that was anything but simple, then using the lyrics ... "by turning, turning, you come round right" ... to talk about how humanity and completion is found in the love of others. Yes, I cried. Again.

As expected, the choir was the icing on the ceremonial cake, the eight voices, organ and two violins swelling in magnificence. I'm partial, I know, but I don't think I've ever heard them better. After the traditional American hymn Simple Gifts, the bridesmaids processed in to Brahms' Variations on a theme by Haydn, which is also the Northwestern University song. That brought another touch of joy, as memories of all those wonderful times of youth rose to join with this day. The processional to Wagner's wedding chorus from Lohengrin, sung, was a triumph. As expected, most people had no idea that familiar melody had words. The choir was suitably operatic and my dress and veil were old fashioned enough to transport everyone back a century or two.

About half the service was sung or played rather than spoken, and most of that to Mozart's Coronation Mass. We added on two movements of the Exsultate Jubilate for the signing of the register; it was a special, quiet moment when Piers and I stood together in the vestry, where we'd adjourned for the signing, to listen to the soprano hit those stirring notes. The second hymn, to honour the English side, and Piers' rugby passion (and it's also his school song), was of course Jerusalem. Now into the musical spirit of things, the congregation performed their audience participation on this one with vigour. And finally, out to Vivaldi's Gloria, certainly in the Top 10 list for the most joyful piece of music ever written. To paraphrase Shakespeare, if music be the food of love, we left the church very, very full.

To add to the whole dreamy, fairy tale aspect of things, a cluster of little girls from the local school had been waiting outside to see me when I emerged. I did, indeed, feel like a Disney princess at that moment. We'd hired a classic Routemaster double-decker bus, so loaded all the guests on board and made our way to the Lansdowne.

At the club, all my recent joys were trumped for a moment upon my first sight of the cake. I'd worked closely with my baker, Rachel Hill of Planet Cake, to create something that was architectural rather than floral, evocative of the late Georgian setting and reminiscent of Wedgwood. It was perfect. And it tasted good, too!

As every bride who went before me predicted, the rest of the day passed in a blur. The first half of the cocktail reception was taken up with formal photos, the second with bustling my generous train and getting the veil off. (I almost had a spectacular tumble backwards off the stairs in the ladies' lounge when someone came crashing through the door before me, but my bridesmaids caught me.) I was too busy to try the canapes ... mini burgers and cornets of coronation chicken to acknowledge the Anglo-American nature of the wedding, crab because the groom loves it ... and soon found myself next to Piers ready to cut the cake. That's certainly one of the great ironies of weddings. All those hours searching for a baker and planning the cake, all her work, all that money, and it's on display for just 90 minutes before it's cut and whisked away to the kitchen. Thank heavens for photos.

After Dad's speech, our guests moved into the ballroom. We had seven tables, in addition to ours, decorated with bunches of hydrangeas in the centre, a sprinkle of dried hydrangea petals across the table and the traditional Italian favour ... five sugared almonds (two shades of blue, and white) in an organza bag with blue ribbons ... by the wine glasses. Two-tone ribbon ties around each napkin and silver chairs with blue seat cushions completed my Wedgwood colour scheme.

We made our formal entrance as Mr. and Mrs. Bencard to Brindisi, the drinking song from La Traviata. Most people couldn't hear it over the applause, but we'd printed the lyrics in both English and Italian in the menu card ("let's drink for the ecstatic feeling love arouses"), so hopefully people noticed. We then sat down to a hearty meal of ham hock and rabbit terrine matched with a cotes de duras sauvignon blanc, followed by duck breast and caraway cabbage with a Cointreau jus, paired with a vega del castillo merlot. The bride and groom didn't linger over their food, however, as we wanted to mix and mingle amongst the dining tables to greet our guests.

We broke up the speeches and added time for both the bride and the matron of honour, with Piers and I giving our toasts just after the starter, and Anne Bruneel and Robin Bencard delivering the main attraction after the duck. Evening guests started to arrive at 7:30, as Robin was finishing up his speech. We then all adjourned to the gallery next to the ballroom, where slices of the wedding cake (three flavours: fruit, lemon and chocolate) were laid out with a cheese board, coffee and port, while the band finished their set up and the staff cleared some tables for dancing.

Our second musical extravagance, the Sinatra-style band, was another fine choice. Paul Young and his backing quartet delivered a mix of the great classics in the first two sets before swinging into some classic rock and roll in the third. We did our first dance to Just the Way You Look Tonight. Two dance lessons and some practice made for a serviceable performance, though I don't think we'll ever qualify for the ballroom circuit. As a special treat, Kaci Machacyk, one of the American extended family, sung Someone to Watch Over Me and My Funny Valentine, a real highlight of the night.

And then, suddenly, it was over. Midnight struck, people were saying goodbye and the last few guests were lingering in the ballroom as the Lansdowne staff struck the tables around us. We were exhausted, but happy. It was the best party I've ever thrown. As it should have been.