Just back from Portsmouth – new territory for me – where we witnessed the wedding of my goddaughter Holly Henderson at St Ann’s Church in the Royal Naval Dockyard. She is a lieutenant in the Navy, and her groom, Phil Dennis, is a lieutenant-commander, which is one rank higher. We stayed in the Queen’s Hotel on the seafront, which was excellent. Our large room had a great view of the Isle of Wight and of the ferries and occasional Navy vessels entering and leaving harbour: it was also extremely comfortable, and the food (we had dinner there on Friday) first class and reasonably priced. The staff in the restaurant were brilliant too, but all without any fuss. Pretty much my perfect hotel, except for some bizarre plumbing in the bathroom, but that was a minor issue.

The journey down started beautifully but gradually deteriorated after I took over the driving at Thrift Farm, near Buckingham, where we’d stopped for a cup of tea, only to find that it was shut – a fact they did not feel it necessary to reveal until we’d parked and walked about a quarter of a mile to the tea room door. We snatched some sandwiches at the next service station and progressed through ever-worsening weather until on the approach to Portsmouth you could hardly see where you were going. The traffic was very bad too: several hold-ups and particularly severe as we entered Portsmouth. I played it by ear and got to the hotel by a slightly roundabout but relatively traffic-free route. Took us about five and a half hours altogether. Roughly 230 miles. Looked at other guests keenly to see who might be attending the wedding, and had a chat with Maryta’s best friend Barbara and her husband Tim. Otherwise it was guesswork.

The wedding went very well, despite the frequent rain showers and overcast sky. Being inside the Dockyard was a fascinating experience, driving past huge ships and eventually finding the church, where we discovered Barbara and Tim again, as well as Celia from Cambridge, who turned out to be Holly’s other godparent. We were very early, but the church was packed eventually, and we watched the guard of honour practising. Afterwards we all drove to the Royal Marines Museum, east along the seafront, which was an impressive setting for the reception. There was the usual delay, but the gap was well filled with bubbly and canapes, followed by speeches and then a fine meal of lamb. We were on a table with Barbara and Tim, Celia and other people from Norfolk, as well as a couple from Mottingham Lane. All got on well, and my only regret was that I had to curb my drinking of the abundant wine, because I was driving. After the meal there was a live band, disco style, and I danced briefly with Dot and Maryta before we went back to the hotel around 9pm. There we saw the end of the rugby, France beating England and taking the grand slam.

This morning, with improving weather, we strolled over to the seafront after breakfast and then had tea in the bar with Paul, Maryta, Holly’s brother Joe and his American girlfriend Chessie, who was charming. Chatted for well over an hour, and we eventually left at about 12.45. The drive back home was much better, though still marred by the apparently permanent road works after Milton Keynes at the M1 junction and beyond – about 10-15 miles at 40mph. Got home about 6pm. It’s now 10.10pm, and I’m feeling very tired. I don’t know why.