Harry and I served in the R.A 221 battery in S.E London. Harry wanted us to be married as there was talk of the men being sent abroad, so it had to take place on this weekend leave. Here begins the story.

The evening before the wedding we were very late leaving Otley, Harry's hometown, to travel to Manchester. I must have been having second thoughts because I said, oh let’s go tomorrow. We would never have made it in time. Harry's sister Nelly had made a wedding cake from fruits, sugar, etc, sent to her from relatives in Australia. She was carrying the largest tier and we had three buses to catch and on the last one from Manchester to Wythenshawe an awkward customer got on. He picked a fight with the conductor who then had an epileptic fit and sat on Nelly, cake and all. It didn't come to much harm.

On the morning of the wedding the best man hadn't arrived, so Harry went to look for him. They weren't back when it was time for me to leave for the church, I didn't want to go in in case they weren't there but a few choice words from my dad and I was walking down the aisle. Harry had found Vincent but had forgotten the name of the church. They were in a taxi touring round all the churches till they found one with a wedding due, they just made it before I did. The wedding proceeds but my mum is upset as the organ was not playing. The housekeeper was very deaf and had thought the message was for no organ.

Things then progress smoothly, and we had a lovely reception in Northenden. Dad, not being a drinking man, was soon under the weather. Mum sent for a taxi to take him home which proved hilarious. The driver opened the rear door and, as fast as my mum got him in the door, he fell out the other side.

Later, Harry and I snuck out to catch a bus home. I was still in my wedding dress and carrying my veil. When the bus came Harry jumped on then held out his hands to help me on. The conductress put her arm in front of him and said, ‘full up.’

‘But she is my wife’, said Harry.

‘I don't care if she’s the Queen of England, she is not getting on.’ It was obvious we were just married, the sour old puss.

When we got home, we went and sat on the settee but jumped up quick – dad was out like a light, he was only small, and mum had covered him with a sheet. It was hilarious as people came in in dribs and drabs, they plonked on the settee before they could be warned. It was so funny, it’s a wonder poor old dad lived to tell the tale.