Read the real thing, card by card.

September twenty twelve, my first day at Cardiff uni. I turned up with a box of saucepans my mum had packed. Rhys was already in the kitchen, labelling the shelves with a label maker. His name on the top shelf, the rest blank, with a note: "first come first served, fair's fair." That's fourteen years. He was my best man in twenty twenty-two, so this is payback. pause

Thank you to the bridesmaids, on behalf of the groom. Especially Megan, Hannah's sister and chief bridesmaid, who organised the hen do. Quick thanks to Steve and Julie for having us all. And to the ushers, Dafydd and Sam.

Our first holiday together was Barcelona, twenty fourteen. Four of us: me, Rhys, Dafydd and Sam. Rhys did the spreadsheet. Our flight from Bristol was at nine in the morning. The spreadsheet said leave Cardiff at four in the morning, to allow for traffic on the M4 and the Severn Bridge. Obviously, at four in the morning, there was no traffic. We got to Bristol Airport at quarter to five. We sat in Wetherspoons from five in the morning. Dafydd had a pint, which Rhys wasn't happy about. Rhys had porridge. He looked round at us moaning and said, calmly, "this is all part of the plan." Dafydd said, "what plan, Morgs, the plan to sit in a Spoons for four hours?" pause The flight got delayed another two hours. Six hours in that airport. Ever since, whenever anything goes wrong, one of us says it. We said it when my car got written off. We said it when Sam's boiler went at Christmas.

Rhys cannot do flat-pack. He reads the instructions three times, lays every screw out on a tea towel, labels them. It still goes wrong. When he and Hannah moved to Bishopston in twenty twenty-three, he spent a whole Saturday building an IKEA wardrobe. When he finished, one piece was left over, a long wooden panel. He wouldn't accept it was a mistake, said it must be a spare. It was the back of the wardrobe. Hannah came in, looked at it for about ten seconds, and said, "babe, that's the back." pause He had to take the whole thing apart. Now Hannah builds everything and Rhys "manages the screws." That's his official job title in their house.

Rhys plays five-a-side every Thursday at the Powerleague in Bristol. In March, twenty nineteen, his team was a player short, and Hannah, on the next pitch, filled in. Nobody asked if she was any good. She scored twice in the first ten minutes. Rhys went in for a tackle and misjudged it. She ended up through the fence, into the hedge behind the pitch. She came out laughing, leaves in her hair, and said, "is that the best you've got?" He was mortified. He got her number off her work mate. It took three days and four drafts. What he sent in the end just said, "Sorry about the hedge. Rematch?" pause She said yes.

look up

In twenty twenty-one, my dad was ill. He had to go into Morriston Hospital in Swansea for treatment, every Sunday, for two months. I didn't ask Rhys for help. I mentioned it once, in the pub. The next Sunday he was outside my flat at seven in the morning with two coffees from the garage. He just said, "right, get in." He did that every Sunday, for two months. He'd sit in the car park doing his crossword while I was in with Dad. He never made a thing of it. He never mentioned it again. Dad's fine now. He still asks after "that lad with the coffees." pause

They've got a dog now, called Tenby, named after the proposal. I just hope those two keep laughing at each other the way they do. And I hope Rhys never stops turning up with two coffees for Hannah. So Rhys, mun, whatever the spreadsheet says, wherever the plan goes wrong: this is all part of the plan. pause

look up Please stand, raise your glasses, and join me. raise glass To Rhys and Hannah.