The long story is that over the years, there were more than several occasions where I thought Nick might get down on one knee.
One of those occasions was a holiday in Tuscany. Nick had cooked ragù, we ate al fresco and drank red wine. He took my hand and asked me whether I wanted to go for a walk. We strolled around the Italian countryside basking in the setting sun when he stopped. ‘This is the moment’ I thought. He looked at me and said ‘right, shall we go back then?’
Christmas Eve a year and a half later in 2017, I was making gingerbread. I had a lot to achieve before we were due over at his parents house that evening but Nick kept asking me to go into the garden with him. It was freezing cold and I was busy rolling out gingerbread Christmas trees and I couldn’t understand why he wanted to go outside so much. ‘I want to ask you where you want the hives’ he said. ‘But we know where the hives are going’ I replied, rolling out yet more gingerbread (I can’t get enough of the stuff). Finally, with the biscuits in the oven, I consented.
‘Let’s walk to the tree’ he said, taking my hand in his. We walked into the field which contains (in my opinion) the most glorious oak tree in the world. I’ve always loved it and you can watch the sun set behind it from the end of our garden.
We walked past the horses and arrived at the bottom of the great oak. I pressed my palm against its trunk and stared out across the view of the picturesque Devon countryside. When I looked back, Nick was on one knee and the rest, they say, is history.