I'M sitting on the bank of the Waikato River, New Zealand, its glossy flow stippled by an occasional plop as a rainbow trout launches itself at a dragonfly or snaps up a short-lived surface bug. I'm 54 and today is my wedding day. The surprise of finding myself in this place with this man is profound, its delights deeply felt but tinged by regret. Yes, I'm in love. I'm enchanted and intrigued by this tall, funny, erudite Englishman I encountered by accident at a mutual friend's breakfast in France four summers ago.