Obviously in this line of work I hear a LOT of wedding readings, and yes, a lot of them are the same. (If I hear the lovely dinosaur reading one more time don't be surprised if I cry a little).
Remember Helen & Anthony's beautiful Nunsmere Hall wedding?
Well these two are self confessed geeks... Anthony actually works in film & TV in Hollywood no less so the poor guy got questioned by me BIG TIME when we first met.
At their wedding the tables were named after people/characters they love (The Doctor was the top table, Sherlock, Freddy Mercury, The Prisoner of Askaban, Blackadder, Winston Churchill and The Beatles); Anthony had the best cufflinks EVER - because well who doesn't love the Tardis and they were the same as my husband's on our wedding day. : )
Special mention for the card that Anthony sent to Helen on the morning of the wedding - it had a little spaceman on it and read "If everyone had someone that made them feel the way I do when I'm with you..." and then inside " ... our planet would look like a giant yellow smiley face from outer space". LOVE <3
However, last but not least, their reading (delivered brilliantly) was EPIC. It was just perfectly them. By far the best wedding reading I've ever heard. And it started out life as a poem that some guy called Tim, wrote for his wife on Valentine's day. Here it is... I don't think I could ever get sick of hearing this one!
Scientific Romance by Tim Pratt
If starship travel from our Earth to some far star and back again at velocities approaching the speed of light made you younger than me due to the relativistic effects of time dilation, I’d show up on your doorstep hoping you’d developed a thing for older men, and I’d ask you to show me everything you learned to pass the time out there in the endless void of night.
If we were the sole survivors of a zombie apocalypse and you were bitten and transformed into a walking corpse I wouldn’t even pick up my assault shotgun, I’d just let you take a bite out of me, because I’d rather be undead forever with you than alive alone without you.
If I had a time machine, I’d go back to the days of your youth to see how you became the someone I love so much today, and then I’d return to the moment we first met just so I could see my own face when I saw your face for the first time, and okay, I’d probably travel to the time when we were a young couple and try to get a three-way going. I never understood why more time travelers don’t do that sort of thing.
If the alien invaders come and hover in stern judgment over our cities, trying to decide whether to invite us to the Galactic Federation of Confederated Galaxies or if instead a little genocide is called for, I think our love could be a powerful argument for the continued preservation of humanity in general, or at least, of you and me in particular.
If we were captives together in an alien zoo, I’d try to make the best of it, cultivate a streak of xeno-exhibitionism, waggle my eyebrows, and make jokes about breeding in captivity.
If I became lost in the multiverse, exploring infinite parallel dimensions, my only criterion for settling down somewhere would be whether or not I could find you: and once I did, I’d stay there even if it was a world ruled by giant spider- priests, or one where killer robots won the Civil War, or even a world where sandwiches were never invented, because you’d make it the best of all possible worlds anyway, and plus we could get rich off inventing sandwiches.
If the Singularity comes and we upload our minds into a vast computer simulation of near-infinite complexity and perfect resolution, and become capable of experiencing any fantasy, exploring worlds bound only by our enhanced imaginations, I’d still spend at least 10^21 processing cycles a month just sitting on a virtual couch with you, watching virtual TV, eating virtual fajitas, holding virtual hands, and wishing for the real thing.