So somehow it's here: the week of my wedding. And, of course, I'm panicking.

But with a to do list the length of… well, a very long thing, there's no time for that. Orders of service need printed (pictured in their crate), honeymoon clothes need bought, place cards need written, Indian visas need collected… oh and we need to practice our first dance. How better way to spend the Saturday night before our wedding?

We picked it, well actually Pete picked it and I agreed, months ago: Nick Drake's Northern Sky. The lyrics are beautiful, I'm from somewhere, erm, vaguely northern being Glaswegian (tenuous link) and well, it's one of Pete's favourite songs. 'But,' I said, 'my only concern is can we actually dance to it?' (it is not exactly an upbeat number). 'Of course we can,' countered Pete, 'Of course we can.'

Well as we alternated between swaying awkwardly and me trying to lead him in an ad-hoc waltz round the living room on Saturday night (those years of being the 'boy' because I was tall in the obligatory Scottish country dancing lessons at school are hard to shake), it appeared it wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed.

Ever the engineer Pete was keen to solve this problem. 'We just need to work out what beat it's in,' he said, reaching for his bongo (one gap year piece of décor he refuses to get rid of). After a detailed analysis, and much banging, he concluded it was a 3-3-2. Whatever that meant.

'I told you, a waltz.' One problem solved. He was on to his next - learning how to waltz.

Lucky YouTube is a fount of 'how to dance' videos (we were running a little tight to squeeze in a proper dance lesson) and we were soon stood with a box made out of strips of newspaper on the floor learning the box step (check out

I'm not sure how it'll pan out on Saturday when you factor in a wedding dress and the fact that Pete's a big fan of the 'spontaneous' twirl… all I can hope is that I don't fall down. So wish us luck - I'll report back as a married woman!