Airport security took her fake tan and never noticed the ring.

Their story

February 2017, Oz Bar, just off the Grassmarket. There was no polite half-pint to ease them in gently. They sat up all night on Staropramen and cider and black, got on like a house on fire, and managed a cheeky smooch in the corner. Abbie's Mam, on hearing that her daughter had been drinking pints on a first date, was less than thrilled. In fairness, it worked out. Within the week they were booked in for food at Paradise Palms, and that was them for the rest of uni.

By third year they had a ritual. On Wednesday nights Abbie finished her shift at a shop round the corner from Owen's flat and walked over, and Owen would have homemade wedges on, with garlic sauce and a bottle of wine. Wedges and Wine Wednesday. Their other shared passion was a shade darker: Forensic Files. They watched so much of it with their pals that they could name the killer before the programme did. Abbie's favourite episode is the one where a man is caught because he stood in a burger bun and left a footprint. Keep that one in mind.

There was one small obstacle. Every time Owen went down to Shields, Abbie's dad could not understand a word he said. Owen maintains his accent is not all that broad. Abbie's dad maintains otherwise. Then lockdown arrived. Abbie became a key worker in a supermarket, they finished their dissertations in a flat near Marchmont, and there was no graduation. They came out the other side closer than ever.

After uni they came west. Their first Glasgow flat was just off Byres Road, opposite the old M&S, which any self-respecting West Ender will tell you remains an ongoing tragedy. Then they drove to Doncaster and came home with Gomez, a British Blue who has since smashed a bathroom sink, screamed the place down in the middle of the night and made a habit of standing on Abbie's head while she sleeps. Their first child, they say.

The proposal, and the detective who missed it

Owen had known for a while, but the lightbulb properly went on three days before they flew to Tennessee in September 2024. He left work early, drove to a jeweller on Byres Road, got through the door just before closing and chose a yellow gold solitaire. Abbie will tell you herself he got it exactly right. Then he phoned her dad from work, which he had never once done in his life, and her dad picked up convinced Owen had put the car in a ditch. He had not. Her dad was chuffed. He told her mum, her mum told her gran, somebody told Aunty Pat, and as I explained to the room on the day, "once Aunty Pat has it, folks, the whole of South Shields has it."

So by the time they reached the airport, Abbie was the only member of her family who did not know. This is a woman who can identify a murderer from a footprint in a burger bun, and she missed every single clue. Airport security did their bit too. They pulled Abbie's fake tan out of her hand luggage and confiscated it, and while she was busy explaining herself, Owen sailed through with the one thing in his bag that actually mattered.

They landed in Nashville with a hurricane forecast for later in the week, so Owen quietly moved the whole plan to the first night. After a day on Broadway they finished up at a rooftop bar, at a table looking straight out at the sunset. Abbie got up to have a look over the edge, turned round, and he was on one knee. The rooftop went up, strangers bought them drinks, and then the two of them told nobody until the next morning, partly because it was three in the morning at home and mostly because for one night they wanted it to belong to just them.

The ceremony

Before we began I went out to see Abbie, had a quiet word, and came back to the front, where Owen was waiting with his best man Fraser, looking handsome and a wee bit nervous. Owen's sister Erin led the way in, and Abbie walked down the aisle on her dad's arm to The Wonder of You. They had asked their guests to put the phones away and leave the pictures to Top Table, so everybody was watching them instead of a screen.

Abbie and Owen asked for no symbolic elements at all: no handfasting, no quaich. Their story did all the work, told to a room full of the people who were in it.

The secrets got the laughs. Abbie loves that Owen is gentle and kind, and that the pair of them are so daft together they have basically invented their own language, which she knew fine well would ruin his street cred. What needs work is the washing machine. This is a man with an engineering degree and a Master's who claims he cannot work out what the buttons do. Owen loves that Abbie is happy-go-lucky and full of joy, and wonderfully organised, which balances him out. What needs work: Abbie is, in her own word, a yapper, and Owen confessed that he sometimes drifts off, going yep, mhmm, wow, before coming round to find he has missed a five-minute monologue. He heard about that later.

My favourite bit was the activity list. Their favourite day out, their words, is Dawsholm recycling centre, and quiet, laid-back Owen has been taken along to surfing lessons, alpaca trekking, Go Ape, quad biking and a Highland cow meet and greet, among others. Whatever Abbie books, Owen turns up. The man simply does not say no.

They signed to Johnny and June Carter Cash, then If I Didn't Have You from Monsters, Inc., then Randy Newman's The Time of Your Life. Then I presented them, Praise You kicked in, and they walked back up the aisle with confetti coming down from the gallery and the whole room on its feet. Next stop is three weeks in Nashville for the honeymoon, which, given Owen gets twenty days' leave a year, tells you precisely where the priorities lie.

Marrying at Òran Mór yourself?

If you want to see the Auditorium dressed for a handfasting, read Stuart and Rebecca's story. Here is the rest of what I know. First, size. The Auditorium takes a big wedding comfortably, with guests either side of a long aisle and the stained glass rose windows along the walls. If yours is a small wedding, ask about the Gallery: Òran Mór describe it as a ceremony space for up to 32 guests, up at the highest point of the building, right under Alasdair Gray's mural.

Second, music. Òran Mór asked Abbie and Owen for three tracks for the signing, so choose three, put them in order and get them to the events team well ahead. Third, timings. For a 2pm ceremony we had Owen in from about quarter past one and guests from half one, which gave the room time to settle before Abbie arrived. Fourth, plan your exit with the events team early. Walking out under confetti from the gallery gave these two the picture of the day, so ask what is possible before you assume.

And look up at the pillars before you start. The carved heads include Martin Luther and Thomas Chalmers, so two giants of the Reformation had a front-row view of a humanist couple walking in to Elvis. They seemed to cope.

There is more on the building in my Òran Mór venue guide, and if you are marrying round here my West End of Glasgow page and Kelvinbridge page are the place to start. Òran Mór is two minutes from my front door in Kelvinbridge, and couples booking me for Glasgow weddings pay no travel fees. If you are wondering how the whole thing runs, I have written up what happens at a humanist wedding, and if you are working out who walks you in, there is a guide to walking down the aisle in Scotland too.