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Then we piled all of our guests into a Fijian bus (if you have not had the pleasure of riding in one of these then you haven’t lived. The reactions to it are usually very visceral. I think you can tell a lot about a person from their first impression of the bus.

While everyone was driven to the reception place we took a moment to celebrate quietly. We're married!







The reception went along at a cracking pace I thought. Since we had dispensed with the offices of best man and bridesmaid there were no drunken speeches* (we have a lot to hide so it was best to keep our dirty laundry out of the public view ;o).

Our collective fathers delivered lovely speeches of our wonderful union and then food and cake.

Lucky we had the reception indoors because all that threat of rain stopped being threats and became rain.











My family were so kind as to organise a Pacific island dance group. They were a sort of best of the pacific dance troupe made up of Tongans, Samoans, Kiribats (I don’t know what you call a person from Kiribati?), Maoris, Melanesians and one Indian (that’s not really in the pacific but I think he was their manager). They ate fire and scared/enraptured the children.

It was a wonderful day had by all (even if I do say so myself).







* Actually there was one other important announcement at the reception that I can’t believe I missed. We are pregnant! I wish we had a photo of everyone else’s faces at the announcement. Yeah, we are pregnant. I have still got to get used to that. I’ve been trying to establish a pre-birth rapport with the little vag-burster (Naomi prefers the term Womb raider but I think that one sounds like a porno title starring Lara Under-croft) - pelvis racing, chase the spotlight on the belly, playing Daft Punk songs and prenatal chess.