HOW would you feel if you got a call from your daughter, Peaches, to say she was getting married in 15 minutes or so?

Yes, I know you haven't got a daughter called Peaches but it would be the same if your daughter were called Gertrude, Grace, Beatrice or Beetroot. Or, indeed, your son.

I don't know how Sir Bob Geldof felt but I wouldn't be surprised if his reaction had been to ask about who the hell she's marrying, followed by his face contorting into a very worried and lemony expression accompanied by a choice of, well, choice Geldof curses. (The groom-frown drats?) Bob once asked what the point of children was if you didn't have the privilege of bringing them up... and you can't help feeling sorry for him for missing out on Peaches' bizarre but important day.

But this marriage isn't about Bob. It's about Peaches and her new husband, Maxwell (a guitarist, incidentally, with the surname of Drummey).

It may have been a spur-of-the-moment decision; Peaches may be young at 19; and the Las Vegas ceremony at a chapel with a "Drive-up Wedding Window" may have lacked tradition. But that's no reason to doubt that their marriage can be a long and happy one.

Marriage takes a knocking these days with something like 40 per cent ending in divorce. And I certainly don't like to see anyone trapped in a miserable relation- ship. But the flip-side of the statistics is that about 60 per cent of marriages last, with couples showing commitment and giving each other support.

Peaches' wedding may sound bananas to me but it has happened and good luck to them. lt may turn out to be a plum.