This week Marion tells us all about her first wedding

When I write about my first wedding it's not meant to be in a facetious way.

My first husband died very suddenly in 1992 after 41 years of happy marriage, and I have since remarried.

When I told one of my grandsons I had married his "go go" (the name he always called his granddad) when I was 18, he was astonished and said "Nan – 18, why?"

I told him it was quite normal for people to marry young when I was growing up – although maybe 18 was unusual.

However, when we met the "right one" then marriage was the only option.

In those days we couldn't have lived together or even gone away on holidays together.

My fiancé had left school at 14, had worked for four years and then been called up to do his national service.

By the time he came out of the army (I had faithfully waited for him) he was ready to settle down.

At the end of his basic training he had been posted to Vienna and I must admit that, when I first saw him after his time away, I was a little bit in awe of him.

He had gone into the army a boy and come home a man.

Our wedding by today's standards was a very low-key affair.

Weddings in church were then still the norm and we married at St Barnabas church, Knowle, on May 19, 1951 – after we had had our banns called three times and had a little chat with the vicar, who wanted to be sure we understood the solemnity of our vows.

Of course we had to get our parents' written consent for the wedding – in those days, the legal age of marriage was 21 and we were just 18 and 20.

My boyfriend was rather put out about this saying that the Government could call him up to do national service but that he couldn't get wed without permission.

What a cheek.

Organising a wedding in those days was a big undertaking.

There was not much money about and with food still on ration it was pretty much an austerity wedding.

My dress and veil were second-hand and the reception was held in mum and dad's front room.

We borrowed forms and trestle tables from Connaught Road School.

Although my fiancé and his dad had been roped in to help with all the carrying, he wasn't allowed past the front door.

I had to hide upstairs until he had gone because mum thought it unlucky for a groom to see his bride the night before the wedding.

My mum managed to give me a fine wedding breakfast with (tinned) ham salad and bread and butter followed by fruit salad and Nestle's cream.

But we did have a lovely homemade two-tier wedding cake (it just wasn't made in our home, joked dad), and after that it was all hands on deck to return the trestles and forms.

And then it was time for a singsong.

Our expectation for presents was not high – which was just as well really because, apart from family presents, we seemed to get mostly fruit bowls and sets of cutlery.

One of my fiancé's friends made me a beautiful bouquet and we felt such a happy and lucky couple.

You couldn't have found a prouder "father of the bride" when he walked me down the aisle.

After the wedding we had a week's honeymoon and then moved into Green Street, Totterdown, where we rented two rooms and a kitchen with just a cold tap (no sink) and room for a cooker.

But more about that another day.

I did have a friend who fell in love at a young age with a boy her parents felt was very unsuitable.

She (I won't give her name) and the young man ran away to Gretna Green where they "married before the anvil", since they were over the legal age in Scotland of 16 years.

I wonder if any of my readers have done the same thing?

I would love to hear from you.

As for my first marriage, I don't know whether there is such a thing as one "made in heaven".

But I do know we were very happy – he was a lovely husband and father and such a proud granddad.

I honour his memory with love.

Next week – my first car. See you then, Marion.