Some love stories start in exotic places. Sandra and Aaron's started in a Skype window during a global pandemic. It might be the most romantic one I've ever told.
A Lockdown Love Story
April 2020. The streets were empty. The Tube was a ghost train rolling through a city that had hit pause. And somewhere in the great digital unknown, Sandra and Aaron found each other.
They met online, which by 2020 wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the world they were meeting in. No restaurants. No bars. No "let's grab a coffee and see if there's chemistry." Instead, they had Skype. Pixelated corners of each other's living rooms. Shared silences and conversations that ran past midnight.
Sandra was thoughtful and wary. Aaron was cheeky and charming, sporting a lockdown haircut that he would probably rather I didn't describe in detail. Their first words to each other were typed, not spoken. Their first dates were screens apart. They fell in love in a way that nobody would have planned but that turned out to be exactly right for them.
When they finally met in person, everything changed. And nothing did.
The Park, the Child, and the Hand-Hold
Their first real-world meeting was in a park. Sunlit, slightly awkward, and interrupted by a small girl who pointed at them and announced to nobody in particular: "They're a couple!"
Aaron, encouraged by this unsolicited endorsement from a total stranger, asked Sandra if she wanted to hold hands.
Sandra, meaning to say yes, said: "I'm okay."
Time stopped. Aaron's confidence deflated like a bouncy castle at dusk.
Then: "I mean... yes, we can hold hands."
It was their first misunderstanding and their first lesson. Love wouldn't always be fluent, or smooth, or neatly subtitled. But it would be real.
Two Proposals and Three Cats
They travelled through the pandemic together. Through cancelled Christmases and heartaches they thought might break them. Through quiet knowing glances and whispered bedtime stories. Aaron knew she was the one when Sandra patched up his falling-apart boots on a mountain trail and got him safely down, because that's who Sandra is. She'll get you home.
Sandra knew when she saw the way Aaron looked at her one day, differently. "I know," she said. "But please don't rush." A few days later, he whispered, "I love you, Dragoney."
The proposal came in two parts. First, on Valentine's Day, three cats and a cheeky man handed her jewellery and asked her to guess what it meant. Then, the real proposal. In the snow, on a Cotswolds hilltop, with Gloucester spread out below them and everything in front of them. Quiet. Unshowy. Just right.
The Music That Told Their Story
Sandra and Aaron's wedding at Bromley Court Hotel on 9 August 2025 was one of those days where the music did more than fill the room. It told you who they are.
The ceremony set the tone. Brooklyn Duo's arrangement of Pachelbel's Canon as the bridesmaids and mums walked in. Westlife's Beautiful in White for Sandra's entrance. Ellie Goulding's How Long Will I Love You during the signing of the register. And Coldplay's A Sky Full Of Stars as they walked out together, married.
For the wedding breakfast, the energy was warm and low. Bossanova covers of Rolling Stones classics. Julie London's Fly Me to the Moon. Al Green, Bill Withers, Marlena Shaw. The kind of music that lets conversation flow while giving the room a pulse. Nat King Cole's L-O-V-E. Amy Winehouse singing Valerie live. Dennis Edwards and Siedah Garrett reminding everyone not to look any further.
As the evening shifted, the playlist built. Ed Sheeran's Can't Help Falling In Love was their first dance, and it was the version he released just days before the wedding, added to the playlist on the 8th. Then Imagine Dragons' On Top Of The World for their grand entrance back into the room, and the dancefloor opened up.
What followed was a proper party. KC and the Sunshine Band, Earth Wind & Fire, Sister Sledge. Spice Girls to Bon Jovi. Whitney Houston to Bruno Mars. A Polish group dance to 't Smidje by Lais that had half the room learning steps on the fly. Shakira, Pitbull, and Don Omar for the Latin contingent. Rick Astley (twice, because some things are non-negotiable). And Queen's Don't Stop Me Now, because there are certain songs that a wedding DJ learns to trust like old friends.
Their last dance was Natalie Cole's This Will Be. If you know the song, you know why. It's pure joy. A perfect full stop.
The guest requests added another layer. Sophie Cook wanted Dancing Queen. Chris and Lucy asked for Arctic Monkeys towards the end of the night (with a smiley face in their request, which tells you something about Chris and Lucy). Rafał wanted the acoustic version of Tom Walker's Just You and I. Dionne requested Whitney Houston. Lee wanted Cameo's Candy. Each request was a small window into the friendships surrounding Sandra and Aaron. When I build a playlist, these aren't afterthoughts. They're how I make sure the room feels like it belongs to everyone, not just the couple.
One detail I always notice: the Do Not Play list. Sandra and Aaron's had two songs on it. That tells you something about a couple. They knew what they wanted, they knew what they didn't want, and they trusted me to handle everything in between. That kind of clarity makes my job a pleasure.
Telling Their Story to a Room That Lived It
The love story narration was the highlight of the evening. I'd spent hours beforehand interviewing Sandra and Aaron separately, neither of them knowing what the other had said. The stories they shared, the lockdown Skype calls, the boots on the mountain, the "I'm okay" that nearly ended a hand-hold before it began, all of it woven together into something that only their closest friends and family would fully understand.
When I delivered it to the room, there was laughter. There were tears. There was the particular kind of silence that only happens when a room full of people is genuinely listening, not politely waiting.
That's the thing about a love story narration. It's not a speech. It's not a toast. It's their story, told by someone who took the time to learn it, presented as a surprise to both of them at the same time. The couple hear their own story told back to them, and the room experiences the whole journey in ten minutes. From a Skype window in April 2020 to a dancefloor in Bromley on a summer evening.
You can't get that from a standard MC announcement. You can't get it from a best man's speech, as good as those can be. It's a different thing entirely, and it's the part of my job I love the most.
Every Wedding Has a Soundtrack
Sandra and Aaron's playlist had 112 tracks across the day. Some were requests from guests: Sophie Cook wanted Dancing Queen. Chris and Lucy asked for Arctic Monkeys towards the end of the night. Rafał requested Tom Walker's Just You and I, acoustic version if possible. Dionne wanted Whitney Houston. Lee wanted Cameo's Candy. Each request was a small window into the friendships surrounding the couple.
That's what a wedding playlist really is. Not a list of songs. A map of the people in the room. The couple's tastes, their families' memories, their friends' personalities. When it all comes together properly, the music doesn't just accompany the evening. It is the evening.
Every couple I work with gets this level of preparation. The Zoom calls, the questionnaires, the love story interviews, the playlist curation, the guest request management. By the time the first song plays, I know who's in the room and what will make them move.
Sandra and Aaron's story started in a Skype window. It found its way to a Cotswolds hilltop, through three cats and a pair of broken boots, and finally to a dancefloor at Bromley Court Hotel where a small army of friends danced to everything from bossanova to Bon Jovi.
That's a story worth telling. They all are.