I am back in London after attending my best friend's wedding in France. Like many girls, I have a few best friends, because 'good' doesn't even begin to describe the kind of relationship my friends and I enjoy, and this one is one of the oldest and dearest friends I have.

She's one of the few people I'd do anything for, including standing up in front of a room two thirds full of strangers, and one third full of old friends, and give a speech I was only asked to do a few hours before (not by my friend, she's far too nice to do that to me), even though public speaking makes me incredibly nervous.

She's also the first of all of my best friends to get married, which may account for why her wedding's also the first one ever to make me think, "when's my turn?"

I'm well aware that every 'successful' wedding should have "un chop et un puke" (or in English, "one hook-up and one throw-up"), and while I was quite amused by their efforts at attempting to get me and one of the groom's oldest friends as the former, on this particular occasion, I wasn't about to double the number of wedding hook-ups I've done no matter how cool this guy appeared to be*. Thanks anyway, dear.

Seriously, though. For the best friend who's been so great in spite of the demanding nature of her work, and the physical distance that's been between us for a fair amount of time since we graduated, and until I moved back to London, for the wonderful girl who's usually the first to hear about the guys in my life - whether it's good news or bad news - for the fantastic girl who's incredibly smart and so successful, I'm so happy she's found someone entirely deserving of her.

Fèlicitations, ma chère amie. Je t'aime.

* And fine, I'll admit to being a little disappointed he didn't join us the next day after he said he might turn up. He did make up for it by texting "thanks for the seating arrangements!" to the groom though!