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| [Image 1. I am on the left in my powerchair wearing a grey jacket, white shirt, and yellow tie and Hannah on the bench beside opposite me in her wedding dress, captured together on our wedding day.] |
Today marks two years of marriage for Hannah and I. Our cotton anniversary. I always try to find whatever the theme is so I can connect it to presents each year.
Last year was paper. I made origami flowers and stuck them on a notepad, with origami swans in our blog colours on the inside.
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| [Image 2. A handmade first anniversary gift with origami flowers on a pink notebook, finished with a heart label marking the date.] |
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| [Image 3. Blue and pink origami swans placed on a handwritten note showing our names and the dates of our first and second anniversaries.] |
Cotton feels right though. Its interwoven fibres symbolise the growing strength, durability, and comfort of a marriage. After two years, a couple’s lives are increasingly intertwined, adaptable, and comfortable with each other. Their experiences keep weaving together until they become something resilient, strong, and versatile. It is still soft and flexible, adjusting and growing into something secure.
It is also ordinary, but in the best way. It doesn't need the glamour and sparkle that other materials have.
Our marriage has been exactly that. Everyday. Ours. Ordinary? Well, for us it is.
Our story started back in the early blogging days where we were just two friends writing about our lives. Then 2017 happened. I joked about Take That songs and being single, not knowing what would happen a few months later or that Hannah couldn't stand Take That, specifically Gary Barlow. Seven years later we were getting married.
When I look back at our wedding, I smile at how unapologetically “us” that day was. Six of us. Six Infinity Stones. Jeans, converse, colourful ties and flowers, Care Bear pockets, and a church full of people who loved us. It was simple, joyful, and rooted in the life we had already built. It was nothing like my first marriage. It was all about the wedding, dress, food, and venue. Our wedding was always about us, our family, and the marriage that we were already living.
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| [Image 4. The six of us gathered for the signing during our wedding, standing around the table with documents, a candle, and a colourful bouquet. From back to front, left to right. Arty, James, Will, Midge, Hannah and Martyn] |
I had spent years convinced marriage was something I would never do again. I had lived the big wedding, the relationship collapse, the divorce, and rebuilt my life around being a single dad who didn’t see the point of trying again. Hannah changed that. She changed me. She made marriage make sense. So when she proposed, it was a simple yes.
Dad’s death changed our timeline. We would have married on the 21st of April 2023 if life had not shifted under our feet. That date still feels special. 21st of April 2017 was when we went from communicating on Twitter to a friendly phone call. We both knew something changed between us then. The day that set the tone for everything that followed. Did it matter if we delayed it by a year? Not really. We just decided to spread our love over two days instead.
This last year has been pretty normal, or should I say a typical cotton year. Normal for us means church, study, writing, kids, cats, and the constant juggle of a blended family. Hannah doing her litter picks, eco work, admin role, and running Rebel Club challenges with creativity and imagination. Me trying to keep up with the ordination process, sermons, Bible studies, the emotional weight of the C4 process, and my ever‑changing health.
It also shows something not every couple experiences, as Hannah holds the practical, emotional, changing, and adapting load that comes with being my carer. She does it with love, humour, a steadiness most people will never understand, and often on disturbed sleep.
People say the vows lightly. In sickness and in health. They imagine it as a distant possibility. A life they hope they will not experience until they are old. Hannah married me knowing it was our present and our future. She knew what my health was, would become, and meant for her and the kids. She still chose this life. She chooses it every day. That choice is not small. It is not romantic in the Hollywood sense. It is real and costly. It is love lived out in the ordinary moments for everyone else, and the less than ordinary moments for us, that no one else sees.
We have had some good days out this year.
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| [Image 5. A busy table of dumplings, fried chicken, and drinks during a relaxed meal out. Hannah, wearing a black jumper, is smiling at the camera] |
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| [Image 6. Hannah and I settled into our seats in a darkened cinema , waiting for the film to begin.] |
Wagamamas at the Dockyard after watching Captain America, Brave New World.
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| [Image 7. A moment from a local Rotary community event, with people gathered around as someone holds a duck for visitors to meet. Hannah to the right, wearing black strokes the therapy duck] |
The Sweeps Festival, where Hannah was over the moon to be stroking a therapy duck.
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| [Image 8. A bright floral red telephone box on the high street, with the Hannah in a black hoody standing next to me, in my powerchair wearing a blue coat and a wooly hat stopping for a quick photo.] |
Canterbury, where I dragged her through my old uni haunts after a meeting with the Bishop that felt heavy at the time. Our kid free weekend in February where we ordered curry and watched Friends, remembering what quiet felt like.
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| [Image 9. I am wrapped up in a bright blue jacket on the high street, while Hannah and I pause on the brick‑paved street for a quick photo together. Hannah is wearing a black and varied shaded purple coat] |
The Walk of Witness on Good Friday.
We also realised we barely took any photos of us this year. Plenty of the kids, the cats, the activities, and the places. Hardly any of the couple doing the things. Maybe that is something we can work on this year. Just for us. Proof that we were there too.
Two years in and our marriage feels like cotton. Strong. Soft. Woven through the everyday. Nothing flashy. Nothing performative. Just two people choosing each other, family, faith, and the life we have built. While today we celebrate two years married, tomorrow marks nine years as a couple. It has been a crazy nine years, but the journey has been worth every effort to be where we are now.
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| [Image 10. A black and white photo of Hannah and I laying on pur bed. Hannah is on the left and I'm on the right as we smile at the camera. Photo taken the night before the post was published] |
Happy anniversary to us. Here’s to year three and all that it has in store.
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