It was a clear black night, a clear white moon, Warren G was on the streets, trying to. . . wait a minute, I've taken it too far. Actually, there is an element of accuracy in that first line, because it was under a clear white moon upon a clear black night that said proposal did in fact occur. However, we were not on the streets, and neither Nate Dog nor Warren G were there. We were in fact at the rather nice Amante Beach Club, which is in a private cove just south of Cala Llonga in Ibiza where we were staying.

Rather than subjecting us both to the kind of embarrassment that has been outlawed in all but the most serious of torture chambers, I decided that a proposal at the dinner table would only be acceptable if we were the only dinner table. Amante came to my rescue with the 'Amante Table' which is a secluded table towards one end of their outdoor area, under its own thatched roof no less. We were to have a five course dinner after which I was going to smoothly and in the style of someone with style, slide around to Lucy and ask the question.

However, I did not fully appreciate the substantial amount of time that would pass before these courses were to be completed. With every course my patience (and appetite) grew smaller, and after three courses of what has to be said was pretty spectacular food (pats self on back) I could take it no more. We were sat looking out to the view of the moon rising from the sea on the horizon, and I seized the moment. Fumbling an excuse to stand up and retrieve the ring from my three-course-tight trousers, I returned armed with ring-in-hand, but emptier than a Spanish bank in the words department.

I had always thought that letting the words come to you would be the best way to approach such an event. However, in hindsight, and to be borne in mind for any future events requiring words, I now know this not to be the case. Managing barely any more than the requisite "will you marry me" the question was posed and the answer awaited. After what seemed a substantial period (and thanks to the chronograph I can tell you it was 1min 32 seconds) and a second attempt at the question, the answer was in the affirmative.

The rest of the evening was largely taken up with silence, faltered attempts at conversation, and two more courses including a selection of desserts I'm pretty sure are worth the flight alone. I think the reality of us actually becoming grown-ups had taken up all brain activity other than life support requirements.

And that, as they say, is that! We eventually managed to bring ourselves back around to normal conversation, and saw the rest of the holiday out essentially either in Ushuaia, on the beach, on a sun lounger or consuming paella (and gin - I know, not very Spanish).