"Well, he made it. On one knee, red rose, the whole works. I was never more surprised and so I think were the rest of the startled shoppers frequenting the Victoria Shopping Centre last Saturday morning. We even had a spontaneous round of applause from the sentimental few wandering out of Boots just at the opportune moment. It had only taken five years, three months and three days…but perhaps I should be grateful.

Let me explain, my name is Jane. A name that remains unfortunate in my mind for its connotations of plainness and comfortable homeliness. In this instance I have to agree that it is pretty apt, a fact that I have had to live with for all of my 32 years.

I have always forgiven them (my parents, I mean) for my genetic inheritance, but couldn't they have given their second daughter a name tag more indicative of angelic daintiness and suggested grace?

I grew up believing that my middle names were 'pleasant', 'steady' and 'sensible'. It's therefore perhaps not too surprising that I experienced mad cravings from time to time for social rebellion and mad flirtation. And briefly, I would find myself suppressing a wanton desire to be just like the petite, blonde, mini-skirted secretary called Kylie, caught in the stationery cupboard counting paperclips with the office manager. Briefly, as I said!

So, when I met Alan in a city club those five years, three months and three days ago, and he asked me out, I was flattered, grateful and just a little bit tipsy. Cause for celebration indeed - I was off the shelf at last!

I moved into his flat after a respectable period of time and in true womanly fashion set out to re-decorate, re-furnish and re-organise his bachelor world. And in true Alan fashion, I don't remember him complaining once - well, maybe once! But I did manage to retrieve his Nottingham Forest souvenir programs from the wheelie bin before he realized where they were.

I often ask him what he sees in me, and he smiles wickedly and says that I'm his good deed in life and anyway, who else would have me? I loudly threaten disposal of aforementioned Forest memorabilia in the dustbin again and we're even!

But, I have to admit, it was still a bit of a surprise when he proposed. Having disappeared under the pretence of going to the loo and returned clutching a rose between his teeth (a silk one, no thorns) he sank to one knee in time-honoured fashion, declared his undying love for the woman who was prepared to wash his smelly socks and offered me all his worldly goods if I would marry him. (I was relieved to find out later that this did not include the football memorabilia).

So, that brings me back to the 'plain Jane' thing. They say that all brides are beautiful or so my endearing mother tells me in her most reassuring tone. And I believe her - and on my wedding day, I am going to shine, not only for me but to prove to my man that his good deed really is worth doing!"