This afternoon, after one and a half very happy years with The Lady I'm Walking Out With, I was suddenly struck numb by the feeling that something had disappeared from our relationship, never to return.

At first, I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. And then it hit me: She's not married anymore.

At lunchtime, after a mammoth seven-minute court case – not quite as long as the duration of her co-habitation with her ex-husband, but not far off – The Lady I'm Walking Out With got divorced.

From what I can gather from a rather garbled phone call, she's now in a delirious near-stupor in the boozer with two of her mates, possibly with celebratory sparkling wine and God knows what else all down her front, and intends to stay there for a good few hours to come.

And after I finish work, I'm going to join them, wipe the dribble off The Lady I'm Walking Out With and tell her everything's going to be all right. And then drink a crate of Holsten.

One doesn't quite know what to say upon the completion of a divorce. Congratulations doesn't seem quite right, nor do condolences.

So let's just say this: if you've been thinking of dumping her, wait until she's sober. And if you're thinking of proposing, wait a week or two.

trei could propose right away, but he'd have to hereby refer to her as The Lady I'm Stumbling About With.

One doesn't quite know what to say upon the completion of a divorce. Congratulations doesn't seem quite right, nor do condolences.

This seemed to be very much a "congratulations" divorce. As I know nothing about the ex-husband or the ex-marriage, I kept myself to myself. But the other people present, many of whom have known The Lady I'm Walking Out With longer than I have, were back-slapping and glass-raising as though it were the beginning, rather than the end, of a marriage.

So let's just say this: if you've been thinking of dumping her, wait until she's sober.

That could take a while. There were a lot of complimentary drinks last night.

Including one from me on the way home last night, for the poor lad who received a completely unexpected stream of invective while sat on a wall innocently eating his takeaway supper. ("You think you're a doctor, do you? A charlatan, that's what you are. Nothing but a CHARLATAN!")

And if you're thinking of proposing, wait a week or two.

Been there, done that, in September 2011.

The only condition I imposed – apart from no rings, no guests at the Register Office, no wedding suit (for me) and no changes of surnames or addresses – was that the wedding should take place on 1st September. Bureaucratic sloppiness by several parties involved has put the kybosh on that idea for 2012, but there's always next year.

Well whatever the correct salutation should be, PROST to you both.

Two colleagues of mine got married to each other recently -- on Friday the 13th. It was his idea and she went along with it.