Gareth’s sister was — and hopefully still is — Charlene, Princess of Monaco. Which made it really hard to get discreet candid photographs of the guests, because there were about ten photographers and videographers from magazines like HELLO! also recording the event.

One guy literally seemed to be employed to walk into my shots with a large softbox that he was carrying over his head. I would have been quite happy to photograph the mad rabble of magazine photographers as part of the day, but I knew those were not the photographs the bride and groom wanted. It was quite a balancing act.

Much like the former Victoria’s Secret model in canary yellow, who seemed to be well over six feet in stockinged feet but magnificently and ludicrously decided to add to that with what must have been verging on seven-inch canary-yellow heels to complete the look.

The day teetered precariously on the edge of a White Lotus-style satire about the lifestyles of the rich and famous in Monaco. For the dancing, they had tribute acts who sounded better than the singers they were imitating.

But ultimately Roisin and Gareth’s wedding withstood the storm and remained a wedding.