“Is that the place where they have the swimming pool?” I asked Oncle, as he told me about the upcoming ‘nuptials’ due to take place at Chelsea Registry Office.  “I’ve never seen a pool there!” he retorted. “I hope you know where you have to be on the day!”

I left extra early to make sure I got there for 8.50am.  The civil partnership ceremony was to take place at 9am, and being a witness, there was no room for tardiness.  Ah, but surely this was the one day I could wear my (vintage) Mink collar? I thought as I rushed out of my front door.  I hastened back again and put it on.

The Circle line took its time and 8.50am found me hurrying out of a taxi on the Kings Road only to come face to face with the rest of the party. We rang the buzzer to the side entrance of the town hall and up we went.

J and I chatted in the waiting area as the civil partnership to be went for their briefing with the Registrar. We were excited but restrained at the same time.  After all we’d been told ‘Absolutely no confetti!’ and were keen to toe the party line.

The ceremony was brief and sweet.  When the happy couple were asked if they’d like to hold hands after the ‘vows’ were exchanged a very firm ‘No’ was the response.

I grabbed a passer by to get the obligatory photo on the steps of Chelsea Town Hall.  “We got married here just two weeks ago” the man said, as he handed me back the camera and smiled lovingly at his wife.

The Bluebird cafe welcomed us for breakfast and soon the bubbly was flowing. Well, in a reserved way naturally, but the excitement was hard to contain as phone calls of congratulations came in, and our merriness was such that even a well known loquacious pop star at the next table was all but drowned out.

Photographs aplenty were taken and two rounds of coffees consumed as well as Eggs Benedict to a band playing.

A couple of hours later, finally it felt like the occasion it should: A celebration of a partnership and fondness of some years which doesn’t have much truck with sentimentality on the outside, but on leaving the restaurant, heading home, brought a lump to my throat.

Newlands Corner is known as an area of ‘outstanding natural beauty’. I was here, perched at the top of one of the most notable views in southern England: The only problem was actually seeing it through the driving hail.

I dashed over to the visitors centre, pushed the door open and shook off the freezing droplets.  Maps abounded and information about this beauteous spot.  On one wall there was a myriad of pictures of birds which I immediately gravitated towards.  I ran my eyes over them – Blue Tit, Robin, Long Tailed Tit, Parakeet to name a few.

A bearded ranger manned the fort sitting behind a rough hewn looking wooden table, taking a bite of his sandwich. “I love the Long Tailed Tit” I said.  “They’re so rare: I saw them in my parents garden almost a couple of years ago now.  They just appeared one day – about nine of them at once and made light work of the food on the bird table.  They’re so cute – I love the way they’ve got no neck, just a head that goes straight into their body.”

The ranger got up and walked over to look at the picture with me.  “Yes, they have that attractive soft pink colouring. We get them here too – but you’re right they just travel in flocks – and here one moment then gone the next”.  He told me more about the area: “The weather comes in here fairly quickly, this’ll pass soon and we’ll have blue skies in about 10 minutes!”

He returned to his desk.  Another furious clap of thunder. I walked over to him, noticing the Collins Gem book of birds on the table.  I asked him if I could have a look.  “The other bird that’s like the Long Tailed Tit in terms of how they travel – is the Waxwing” he told me.  I’d never heard of it and quickly looked it up in the book.  “Oh!  How cute!” I exclaimed, looking at the picture.  “Yeah, I remember at my son’s school last year a flock of them appeared out of the blue – around Autumn time – and within three days they had cleared the Apple tree of all its fruit. Then they were off again!”

“I’d love to have seen that” I said.  “Yep, it was quite a sight” he replied.

Outside the hail had stopped and the view was clear across to the South Downs. “Wow” I said.  “Quite: Better than the view I used to have from an office” he replied.  “I hear you” I said, bidding him farewell and walking back into the golden woods, grinning from ear to ear, revelling in nature and all its glories.

We stood silently looking at a tree upended in my local park.  “Hard to believe that the wind was strong enough to take this one down” I eventually remarked to a lady wearing a red crocheted hat, and carrying a plastic bag. “I know” she responded. “I’ve found all sorts of bits of crockery digging about at the base”.  She looked off into the distance. “There must have been a house here a couple of hundred years ago, and a nice one at that – you can tell by the quality of this delph” she said thoughtfully.

I walked towards her.  “Here” she said, rooting in the bag to bring out a small piece of blue crockery which she gently brushed the earth off before handing it to me. “They say if you find something worth having, give a bit of it away.  It’s the sharing that makes it worthwhile”.  I was touched and thanked her.  “I wonder if it’s Wedgwood – it sort of looks like that, doesn’t it?” “Yes, I’ll look them up when I get home” she said.

She wandered off to sit on a bench and I found myself there too a minute or so later, keen for more conversation with a curious soul.

“I like that things can happen by chance” she mused.  “I met my ex husband like that. I was standing under an umbrella sheltering from the rain in Leicester Square and he ducked under it – asked me if I minded.  I looked at his back. He’s nice I thought, and married him.  And, I was okay with that”.

“I’ll tell you a funny story. Before my neighbour went on holiday recently he was saying he’d have to do something with the garden on his return.  I saw him standing out there the day before he left. There were a few builders hanging about nearby.  He was holding out his palms saying to a friend in a loud voice – ‘Look what I just found in the garden – two sous! Well I never! I’ll have to have a look when I get back from Tenerife – they’re worth quite a bit you know’.  Two weeks later he returned to find his garden completely dug over”.

We chuckled away as the light dimmed and a park keeper came to tell us the gates would shut soon.

“It was lovely meeting you Marie”, I said.  “See you again here sometime?” “The last time I was in this park was 20 years ago and I only live up the road. Trust me, it’s better this way” she replied, smiling.