Back in the autumn of 2006  I was asked to write some lines for my brother-in-law's Civil Partnership with his Taiwanese partner Kuei-Lin to read at the celebration.  This was how it went. 

The Ballad of Nigel and Kuei-Lin.

Hunting amidst packets and bottles and tins,

(Soya beans Nigel’s quarry, chicken tikka Kuei-lin’s).

Nigel caught Kuei-lin’s eye, held his gaze for a while,

In Sainsbury's, The Angel - the ready-meals’ aisle.

What did Nige see in that lingering glance?

Did he know he could sing?  Did he know he could dance?

For Kuei-lin had once, in distant Taiwan

In an all-male Swan Lake, danced the part of a swan.

Nige stood in the queue, and the child in front stumbled

The time hurried by – the checkout girl fumbled

But Kuei-lin had gone through – would he wait?  Would he wait?

Or hurry off home to Nottinghill Gate,

Or Barnsbury, Kentish Town, Hampstead, or Cheam

Had Nige really seen him?  Or was he a dream?

He did not know yet, as his poor heart was thrumming

That Kuei-lin had once been an expert at drumming,

The drummer-in-chief to Taiwan’s combined forces

At their annual review of men, tanks and horses.

Nigel watched while his bachelor shopping was scanned,

His foot tapping tensely, his Switch-card in hand,

Would the hanging around just have taken too long?

Would he be on the pavement, or would he be gone?

Heading off, crossing continents as he’d done in the past

Overland from Taiwan he’d come, not travelling fast.

As he passed through Moscow they attempted a coup

But Yeltsin got back in and Kuei-lin got through.

He began to learn singing when studying in France

And progressed on to opera from modern dance,

And then headed for England  to continue his training

And quite liked the climate even when it was raining.

As the tired check-out girl swiped his card in slow motion

Nigel was struggling with powerful emotion -

“Perhaps he’s gone off to Heathrow to jump on a jet?

Oh he won’t have gone, can’t have gone – don’t be gone yet

For we’ve only just … hardly yet …. haven’t quite met!”

(Those that know Nigel will know he can fret)

But what Nigel did not know, or at least not that day

Was when Kue had reached London, he’d decided to stay

He had loved London, especially the Proms,

And swimming in Hampstead’s all-male swimming pond.

To Nigel, who’d followed a lifestyle of caution

(An accountant in London, amassing his portion)

And came from a family so British and normal,

Conventional, stable, perhaps a bit formal –

(A financial advisor in London – one brother

And a stick-in-mud dyed-in-wool farmer the other

To an Edinburgh lawyer is married his twin)

What could be more different from artistic Kue-lin?

Yes, Nigel, a Warner, had gone a safe way

But perhaps he was yearning for drama that day.

Had he glimpsed in that moment, oriental adventure?

And freedom from Shell’s enslaving indenture?

Did he know that quite soon he would set himself free

And become so much more of what he could be

And swim in that Hampstead pond, flexing his muscles

Director of ILGA, flying to Brussels -

Campaigning for gays, over here, oversea,

To have rights and freedom, and equality

That his campaigns would lead to the fact that today

You can register your partnership, if you’re gay.

Did he foresee that he’d change  his house for a palace

With a shrine dedicated to Maria Callas -

And Taiwanese cooking from a hot wok

And a garden of roses and night-scented stock.

Did he know what was coming, though maybe not yet

Because of the stranger he hadn’t quite met?

Would Islington’s Angel now intervene

With a miracle?  Wait, and all will be seen.

Nigel has hurriedly bagged up his stuff,

Will Kue-lin have waited?  Has he been fast enough?

He steps out on the pavement, his composure in rags

His heart thumping wildly, in his hands Sainsbury’s bags.

But Kue-lin has waited, so sure and so calm

The way Nigel’s heart leaps could do him some harm.

And what happens next? Well let’s leave it a mystery -

It’s better that way.  And what follows is history.