He proposed with a ring made of three actual carrots.

Their story

It starts in early 2021, which tells you most of what you need to know about the first few months of it. The world was shut. Egle and John both found themselves on Match.com, and John opened with a line a friend had fed him: tell me one thing about yourself I could never guess. Egle's answer was that she reads all seven Harry Potter books at least once a year, every year, without fail. He was delighted. Reader, that is why she walked in to John Williams.

They talked every day for about a month before they laid eyes on each other, and Egle's messages were long. That is worth saying, because she will tell you she goes a bit awkward around new people. Something about John never had that effect.

They met in March at Chicksands Woods and she brought her dog, partly as an icebreaker and partly as an escape plan. There were two problems with the date. The first is that in March 2021 the pair of them were not, strictly speaking, allowed to be there at all. The second is that John turned up wearing a fireman's hat, because Egle had mentioned at some point that she had a particular appreciation for men in uniform, firemen specifically. She started laughing and that was the ice gone. Then she watched her muddy dog climb into his brand new car, bought that very week, and John did not flinch. She is still not certain whether he genuinely did not mind or was giving the performance of his life.

He thought she was great. He also had no idea how to pronounce her name. She promised to teach him, kept forgetting, and it has been a running joke ever since.

The second date was a picnic, still outdoors, still faintly against the rules. John arrived with a rucksack of meat, chocolate and two bottles of wine poking out the side pockets, and Egle had one very clear thought: this is going to get messy. It did. It was lovely.

After that it moved the way things move when they are working. A key to his house, in a gift box. A road trip round Scotland. Moved in together inside a year, bought a house in Royston the year after, then Europe by instalments and a trip to Sri Lanka the pair of them still talk about.

The proposal was Cambridge Christmas market in November 2024, the two of them tucked in a heated tepee with mulled wine and the market humming away outside. John suggested stepping out for a photo by the tree. Egle got her phone out, looked up, and he was standing there with a ring box open. What she actually said was "Are you serious?" She did also say yes.

And then there is the ring. John knew fine well that Egle would want to choose her own diamond, so he proposed with a placeholder: a ring made of three tiny carrots. Three carrots. The carrots fell off within about an hour. She superglued them back on and wore it every day until the real one was ready, and she took it to Mexico.

What makes the two of them work

Ask them and you get three words back: travel, dogs and food. Mostly food. They have not missed a single WingFest since the day they met, and I am reliably informed that this record is not up for negotiation.

The rest of it is a straight swap of strengths. John plans everything and has no patience whatsoever. Egle has all the patience in the world and cannot read a map. He will ask ChatGPT, she will do it the long way and do it properly. John likes the last word, and Egle says she does not mind letting him have it, which she has now said out loud in front of every person they know.

Years ago the pair of them agreed on exactly two things about getting married: nothing big, and somewhere abroad. Technically, Scotland is abroad.

The ceremony

Every guest was handed a piece of amber on the way to their seat. Amber has been treasured in Lithuania for generations and is sometimes called Baltic gold, a wee bit of sunlight that has been sitting patiently for millions of years. Partway through I asked everyone to hold their stone through a minute of silence and make a wish for the marriage. That was the quietest a room has been on me all year, and it is the bit I will remember longest.

Egle came in to Harry's Wondrous World, which was never realistically going to be anything else, with a piper going outside beforehand. We shared a quaich, carried up by Patrick and poured by the best man. And we did a handfasting with two cloths rather than one: a tartan for John's side and a Lithuanian juosta, a woven sash, for Egle's, so the knot they pulled tight had both families in it.

The rings came up the aisle with Cookie, who is a dog, and who I am pleased to report carried out the role without incident.

Marrying at Rowallan Castle yourself?

A few things from the front of the room. Ceremonies happen in the Ceremony Room, which is panelled in dark wood with ornate plasterwork overhead, and the light in there is low and flattering in a way no amount of styling will get you elsewhere. Egle and John ran lanterns down the aisle and needed almost nothing else. Resist the urge to fill it. The room is the decoration.

It takes up to 120, and it rewards a smaller list. Everybody could hear, everybody could see, and nobody was sat behind a pillar wondering what was happening. If your number is closer to sixty than a hundred and sixty, this is the sort of room that makes that feel like a deliberate choice rather than a compromise.

Get a piper for the approach if the budget stretches. The walk in from outside is a good long one, and a piper turns it into an entrance rather than a wander. And one that is worth more than any venue tip: put something of both families into the ceremony. Egle and John used two cloths in the handfasting and gave every guest a piece of amber, and it did more for the feel of that room than anything else in the running order.

There is more on the rooms and how the day tends to run in my Rowallan Castle venue guide, and if you are marrying anywhere in the county my Ayrshire wedding celebrant page is the place to start. If the handfasting appealed, there is a full guide to handfasting in Scotland and more on my handfasting celebrant page, and I have written about the quaich and how to use it too. If you fancy your own dug down the aisle, you are in good company: dogs at weddings in Scotland.