He texted "oh I'm here" from four feet away.

Their story

September 2020 was right in the thick of lockdown. No bars, no parties, just weeks of back-and-forth texting, which is old-fashioned courting by accident. In October the restrictions eased just enough, Rhona was out with her pal Kirsty, Stephen was out with his pal Chris, and in a nearly empty Glasgow they ended up in the same pub, the Quarter Gill.

Stephen spotted her first and did what any self-respecting man does: pretended he hadn't. Very cool. Very unbothered. Rhona's first thought, watching this performance, was "look at this dope." Then he came over (without a drink for her, she would like it noted), and she clocked the kind face underneath the nonsense and decided he was actually quite handsome. Stephen's version is less composed. He tried to play it cool with all the grace of Mr Bean, and texted her "oh I'm here" from four feet away, in a pub with about four people in it. His first honest thought, once the terror passed? "Ooft." The slagging started within minutes, and as far as I can tell it has never stopped.

The first real milestone was Stephen meeting Patrick, Rhona's tiny wee puppy at the time. Stephen found her driving about with the dog loose on her lap, was horrified, and within the hour had marched her into Pets at Home for a proper car seat. That is Stephen in one story: mildly outraged, entirely right, and not letting it go until it was sorted.

The proposal, in a Perth hot tub

In November 2023 they went to Perth for a birthday weekend, booked as a chilled, romantic getaway with a hot tub. What they got was an Airbnb next to a working farm, with the aroma to match. Stephen had been planning for months. He'd had a ring made from scratch, with a lot of help from Kirsty, and he had tested the waters with the least convincing cover story I have ever heard: "Not that I'm planning anything... but what would you think of me having a ring made?"

So there they were. Hot tub bubbling, farmyard drifting in on the breeze, Stephen down on one knee. Rhona had half an idea it was coming. Her first response was to tell him to eff off. Her second response was yes. Rhona moved through to Glasgow properly in January 2024, and that November they moved in together for good.

The ceremony

Rhona was walked in by her dad, Patrick. Which meant that halfway through their story I got to tell the room they had now met both Patricks, and that the other one was the dog. You write a line like that and you just hope the timing holds.

The script was built round the way these two talk to each other: the dope, the Mr Bean impression, the hot tub. They are different rhythms on the same team. Rhona loves doing nothing, and Stephen gets twitchy without a plan for the day, then admits by the evening that actually, that was quite nice. Stephen says meeting Rhona felt like meeting someone he had known his whole life. Destined, he calls it.

It was an unplugged ceremony, with everyone invited up for a wee photo once the Marriage Schedule was signed. Before the vows I asked Rhona and Stephen to hold a moment of silence and think about what they were about to promise, and asked their guests to join them and think about how they would support these two. Then I asked the room whether they would stand by them through the highs and lows, and there is only ever one correct answer to that: a loud "We do!"

As for the future, Stephen has a vision and is fully committed to it: a flat in the West End in retirement, where the two of them become the weirdos the neighbours gossip about, bouncing from pub to pub in Partick. I'm fairly confident they'll manage it.

Marrying at One Devonshire Gardens yourself?

One Devonshire Gardens is a row of Victorian sandstone townhouses off Great Western Road, run as the Hotel du Vin. It feels more like a very grand house than a hotel, with pillars at the front door, patterned wallpaper, and big bay windows looking out on to the trees. Rhona and Stephen signed their schedule in one of those bay windows, and the light was lovely.

A few honest things from the front of the room. These are townhouse rooms, so they are intimate rather than vast: check your numbers against the room early, and think about where the aisle runs. Pin down your entrance, signing and exit music with the venue team well before the day, so nobody is sorting it out at quarter to two. And think seriously about going unplugged. In rooms this handsome, let your photographer do the work and let everyone else simply watch.

If you are marrying anywhere near here, my West End Glasgow wedding celebrant page covers the local venues, and my Glasgow wedding celebrant page covers the rest of the city. I live in Kelvinbridge, a few minutes away, so Glasgow couples pay no travel fee. If you are wondering how the day actually runs, from the silence to the "We do!", read what happens at a humanist wedding.