I told James to move. That's the whole story of how we met, really. There was a gig in 2016, he was in my way, and I said so. He moved. And then, for reasons he has never fully recovered from, I talked at him for four hours.
He'll tell you he didn't get a word in. That's true. I've never really needed him to get a word in. I just needed him to stay put, and he did. He's been doing that ever since.
I want to talk about the people who got us to this room, because most of what I know about love, I learned from watching them do it quietly, without making a thing of it.
My sister Priya did every night feed for two weeks when her daughter was born. No fuss, no complaining, just up and up and up again. And when I was ill, she did the same for me. Nobody asked her to. She just turned up and did it, the way she'd done it before, because that's apparently just what she does when someone she loves needs her.
My mum Linda made every table decoration in this room by hand. Every single one. I watched her do it and I still don't fully understand how one person has that much patience, but there it is, on every table, made by her, for this.
My dad Michael and I rebuilt a Mini Metro together in the garage. Over two winters. He let me do most of it wrong first. He'd watch me get it wrong, let me have a go, and only then show me how it actually went. I didn't understand at the time why he did that. I think I do now. It's a slower way of teaching someone something, but it means they actually learn it, and they remember who taught them.
And then there's James, who irons his socks. Genuinely irons them. I have asked him why more times than I can count and he has never once given me an answer that makes any sense at all. He just does it. It's not for anyone. It's not for me. It's just a thing he decided, at some point, that socks deserved.
I tell you that because it's the smallest possible window into who he is. He does things properly, for no audience, for no reason he can articulate, simply because that's how he thinks they should be done. I have never once had to wonder whether he'd show up, or do the thing right, or stay put when it mattered. He's been staying put since 2016, since I told him to move and then didn't let him leave.
Watching Priya, my mum, my dad, all of it, I think that's the actual definition. Not the big speeches. Just turning up, doing the thing properly, and not making a fuss about it.
So James. Thank you for moving that night, and for not moving since.
Everyone, please raise a glass. To James, who irons his socks and still can't tell you why, and to us.