James Marston: An mere bystander at the wedding of Michelle Keegan and Mark Wright in Bury St Edmunds

James Marston at the wedding of Mark Wright and Michelle Keegan

James Marston at the wedding of Mark Wright and Michelle Keegan - Credit: Archant

Alongside my plain speaking photographer friend Lucy’s wedding I have three others this year – well two and a 50th anniversary, which sort of counts.

So I am in the market for some bulk buying of glass bowls – my usual gift on these occasions which generally thwarts the couple’s somewhat cheeky plan in my view for me and other guests to pay for their honeymoon.

Anyway this week I found myself at a celebrity wedding with all sorts of other lovely looking people. Well, I exaggerate a smidgen. The truth is I just happened to be passing through Bury St Edmunds on Sunday and there were huge crowds and photographers all over the place.

Naturally I thought they were out in force to welcome me though I found it odd they had heard I was popping to the cathedral library – a little discovery I have made – to watch me return a book.

Anyway I asked my old chum Andy Abbott, who captured the moment, what it was all about. “They haven’t come to see you James. It’s Mark Wright,” he said.

Apparently he’d come the only way from Essex, though why his wedding required quite so heavy a police presence at tax payer’s expense is something I struggled to grasp. I must be getting old.

“What’s he famous for?” I later asked Lucy. Had he furthered mankind’s knowledge or cured the common cold? “Well, she said, he’s very fit and on TV,” which made me think that if I trimmed down people might want to watch me returning my library book after all.

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An internet search tells me Mr Wright often wears few clothes though perhaps he did for his wedding, at least during the day. I was amused to read Bury described as a “sleepy Suffolk town” – they’d obviously never heard about the time the town ransacked the Abbey in the 14th century!

After all the excitement I motored to Felixstowe where I have a small flat with sea views (distant) to spend the rest of the bank holiday cycling and watching films.

In other news I have reapplied nicotine patches in yet another effort to kick the awful weed following a relapse caused by two glasses of Friday night white wine and an accompanying disappearance of any will power whatsoever. I also pulled out of the hat a birthday party for a few intimates in honour of my mother Sue, who enjoys barbershop singing. I cooked medallions of pork in mustard, though I forgot the mustard. Thankfully I made up for it with a cake (bought) and a game of after dinner bingo. Told you I was getting old.