If, like me, you've ever wondered what it would look like if Miranda Hart and Taylor Swift met Buster Bloodvessel at a wedding, here's your answer...

It's not easy getting the composition right when you're holding the camera in one outstretched hand. I was actually trying to photograph the buffet. Let's face it, it was my main reason for being there.

But despite looking like Jonathan Antoine with alopecia, I had a nice time at the wedding yesterday. Although at £6.50 for a glass of wine, I was glad that Lisa's tee-total. I bought her a Coke for £1.80 and we left it at that. The nuptials were held at Newick Park, which might sound like a band (with swings) who should be playing at the Dome, but is actually a country house hotel in the middle of nowhere. It's a Grade II listed Georgian building set in 255 acres of private parkland. Which makes it a challenge trying to find your car when you leave at 11pm and realise there are no lights outside.

The blonde bombshell in the photo above isn't the bride, it's our good friend H (named after the gay one in Steps). We've already been to her wedding. Admittedly I probably should have been photographing the happy couple, but there were plenty of other people doing that, and I felt that what this occasion really needed was more photos of us. Sadly, H's husband couldn't be in that particular portrait as he was unconscious at the time. £6.50 wasn't enough to put him off.

But marriages aside, the other happy event to take place yesterday was Chloe's first visit to the vet in more than three months. When she was last there in January, they waved her off with a £400 bill, and the advice that if she didn't pick up within three days, I should take her back to be put down. But like a feline Rasputin, she refuses to die, and in the last three months has staged the kind of recovery rarely seen since Lazarus. Lisa thinks it's the arrival of Shimmy which is keeping her young, and I tend to agree. Amelie's been bothering Shimmy so much, she's no longer sending Chloe to an early grave.

Chloe's been living on the tablets of the dead since February, but they're on the verge of running out, so I was forced back to the vet yesterday to beg for some more. It turned out to be a far more pleasant experience than last time. I saw yet another different vet, who was actually a lot nicer, and by the time I left, she'd convinced me that I'm the owner of a miracle cat.

It transpires that since the end of January, Chloe has gained 15% in body weight, which is not only wonderful, but unheard of. The vet said that in cases like hers, the best they usually hope for is for the cat to maintain its weight at the same level. Most actually go downhill. Chloe's the first cat she's come across to have fattened back up to a healthy size. She also said that a lot of cats become anaemic, but that Chloe has the bright pink gums of a red-blooded lion.

So I'm clearly doing something right. I just wish I knew what.