A Tale of Messages, Missed Chances, and Chicken Curry...
Once upon a time, Mark sent Breda a message... Then—plot twist—he deleted it... not once but TWICE! Yep, the messages were gone, but luckily the universe had other plans.
Fast forward six months of chatting, joking, and building a friendship that was so strong, Mark was almost officially “turkey” — he played hard to get and it nearly backfired (with the help of an out of date passport!) But one fateful night changed everything. Mark called Breda after a night at Peggy Kellys (the local), with chicken curry running down his chin (true story). Somehow, between the spice and the belly laughter, something special and crazy clicked.Inspired, Mark packed his bags and headed to London to meet the love of his life...
Somewhere between the giggles, the late-night calls, the pact was made — to stay together. No games. No half-measures. Just the real deal.
But the real test would be when Mark met Duke; Breda's snappy russian pom who liked nobody.... until Mark arrived, then Breda knew he was the real deal. (he must have fed him cheese when she wasn't looking!)
Of course, Mark wasn’t done impressing. He rolled out the big guns: fancy dinners, hotel stays, romantic getaways. He even dazzled Breda with stories of his boxing and football, riding horses and shooting foxes on his farm where Breda wondered was there was nothing this man couldn't do? — tales of rural elegance and windswept adventures. He was like her real life Prince... but funnier!
Then came a planned/unplanned visit to Ashford Castle. Reality struck.
Turns out, Mark can’t actually ride horses. Nor was his shot at anything on the expert level he boasted except maybe his shot at love (which, thankfully, he didn’t miss). But Breda didn’t mind. She’d already fallen for him — Not just because Duke approved him on his visit and not the fox-hunting, horse-whispering version, but the real Mark. The one with the curry stains, sliders in the rain, swimming shorts as normal shorts, his love of steak and the biggest heart ever known...
Over a year into their relationship, Breda and Mark had settled into a lovely rhythm of romantic getaways.
Mark had one consistent request when it came to hotels: “It must have a pool.” Not just for ambience — no no — it was for his "laps."
Mark claimed he needed to keep up his swim routine, like some kind of Irish Michael Phelps.
Breda, meanwhile, would work from the hotel room, occasionally nap from the emotional exhaustion of laughing at all of Mark’s jokes, and politely decline every invitation to the pool. Not because she didn’t love a splash — but because fake tan and chlorine are mortal enemies. And Breda had her priorities.
But one day, the Catholic guilt snuck up on her like a whisper from an Irish auntie. “Go on, the poor lad. He’s swimming all alone…”
So, decided to surprise him. Quietly tiptoeing down to the pool in the two-piece, ready to make a splash. But what she saw nearly made her lose it — not her tan, but her composure.
There was Mark. Not doing laps. Not gliding majestically like a swan. No, he was bobbing up and down in the shallow end like a confused rubber duck.
And just when she’d thought seen it all, Mark launched into his now-iconic Wolverine impression — claws up, eyes wide, water swirling dramatically around his flailing limbs.
Something was off.
“Go on, then…. Show me your swimming.”
Mark hesitated. The panic in his face? Immediate. His eyes widened like saucers, arms flailed, water splashed violently in all directions. You'd swear he was reenacting Jaws — except he was the one being eaten. The thought crossed Breda’s mind to throw in a lifebuoy.
Turns out, Mark wasn’t doing laps. He didn’t need the pool.
What he really wanted… was the jacuzzi. That’s right. The “lap master” was just a big softie who liked to soak in bubbly warm water until his fingers shriveled like prunes. His idea of peak performance was sipping water between sauna sessions.
And honestly? Breda wouldn’t have him any other way.
After all the laughs, the deleted messages, the chicken curry phone calls, the hunting tales, the good times, the bad times, the bobbing in the pool, and the jacuzzi pruney fingers… there was still one big surprise left.
Mark had been planning something — something special, something meaningful, (by fluke) something that felt just right. So where better to do it than the place where it all began: The OWO, where once upon a time started!
Back then, it was all new — the nerves, the butterflies, the wondering if this could be something real. And now, standing in the same place, with everything we shared between us — the friendship, the ridiculous inside jokes, the endless support, the love — Mark asked Breda to marry him. (for the millionth time and this time, thankfully, there was no curry on his chin but there was a promise ring!)
Breda said yes — of course she did. Because even through the jokes, the chaos, and the chlorine-related drama, they both knew from early on: this was forever.
Now, as we prepare to say "I do" this September, we’re not just looking back on how it all started — we are looking ahead to a lifetime of love and laughter hopefully ever after.
So here’s to the next chapter and thank you for being part of our lives and our journey.
Breda & Mark — partners in crime, comedy, and curry — forever. PS he’s not from Mayo he’s from Galway!