Margaret Watson & Tom Gould

March 13, 2012


Tom and I have been seeing each other for eight months when he proposed to me. This time, with a proper golden ring (which is, of-course, not the reason why I said “yes”). He invited me to the same little pub, where we went to on our first date. (By the way, I still don’t like Guinness). For the whole day Tom was acting really weird and seemed a bit nervous: I couldn’t understand what was going on until he asked me to be his wife! It was really cute, how he was mumbling about the non-romantic, casual status of the pub and such. I remember how he moved away a plate with a half-eaten jacket potato and said: “I wanted to invite you to a fancy restaurant tomorrow and to do it there, but when I looked into your eyes right now, I realised I cannot wait any longer! If you say yes, that’s what we are going to celebrate at a restaurant, deal?” I couldn’t stop laughing and, trying to look serious, said: “deal!”