Is the excited email/phone call we’ve been making (on my part, in a haphazard and therefore probably ineffectual manner) as we share the good news of our betrothal. Am happy beyond sense, and will probably stop grinning at some point, but I wouldn’t bet on it happening soon.

Everyone’s been asking how it happened. Here’s the story:

In the lead-up to our second anniversary, having long decided that Amanda was the girl for me, I went ring shopping. When my spirit was crushed by my own utter cluelessness, the crowds and then the price-tags on New Bond Street, I asked Sarah to help me shop and, with her help, the following Saturday I managed to track down the appropriate token (the ‘rock’, as it were, is yet to be purchased and I knew in advance that Amanda wanted to be involved).

On the evening of our anniversary, I asked Amanda to get home early as she could and to dress up warm. We dashed out and I got us a cab to an undisclosed location. (Well, obviously I disclosed it to the cabbie or it would have been an expensive and frustrating taxi ride!)… which was Primrose Hill, the location of our first ever date. We strolled up the hill, shivering with cold and delight at the amazing view of the city the summit affords, thankful for clear skies and dry weather.

“I think my feet are getting a little wet,” I said, romantically, knowing that at some point I would be dropping to one knee. Amanda threw some appropriately dismissive insult in my direction but nonetheless we moved to the tarmac-clad viewing point. There, after some further moments admiring the view, each others’ eyes (awww…) and fumbling in my pocket for the Georg Jensen ring case, I reminisced about the fact that two years previously I’d lacked the courage to ask her for a kiss, but this time I had a more important question…

And the rest, as they say, is history. Oh, she said yes, obviously (after a pause for shock – I’ve finally managed to catch the girl who identifies her birthday present by the folds in the wrapping paper by surprise!). I’m looking forward to keep trying to surprise her for the rest of our lives together.

For the curious; I didn’t ask her family for permission — I’d thought to but had guessed (correctly) that Amanda would want to be the one to relay the news.