Peter and Sanne eloped to Gretna Green, because, in his own words, Peter accidentally knocked Sanne up. And also because they loved each other.

The modern eloping couple is a far cry from the Victorian runaways who sped off over the border, hotly pursued by an angry father and his henchmen. As the first village over the Scottish border, Gretna Green has been the destination for English couples since the 18th century. They have come to take advantage of the comparatively lax Scottish marriage rules. In 1754 Lord Hardwicke’s Marriage Act meant couples had to be 21 to marry without their parents consent; in Scotland the age remained 16. Thus began the rush to Gretna. If a young person wanted to marry a scoundrel, it would have to be in Scotland.

For Peter and Sanne, the story was different. They pre-booked their wedding on the web; they took a video camera to document the experience; the video went on Facebook for friends and family; and the news was broken by mobile phone from a Gretna hotel.

“We were intimidated by a huge church wedding with lots of exposure,” said Peter Crowe, 28. “We wanted it to be very small – just the two of us.” Peter and Sanne live in Holland where they could have got married free of charge at the local council at 9am. “But we wanted something with a story that wasn’t completely crap,” said Peter.

Sanne and Peter, like some modern couples, had always been against marriage, thinking they didn’t need a piece of paper from the Government to validate their relationship. But when Sanne realised she was pregnant, the couple realised that a piece of paper from the government might be very useful, if only because it would secure Peter’s rights over their child.

It all sounds very clinical, but actually: “It was completely romantic,” said Peter.

“We stayed one night at a bed and breakfast in Windermere and as we were leaving we told the landlord and landlady that we were going to Gretna Green. The man joked that we must be going to get married, and when we said that actually, yes, we were going to get married in secret, they both hugged us and had tears in their eyes. It felt nice to let them in on our secret.”

The rather tragic but captivating romanticism of lovers who run off into the night (against their families’ wishes, branding themselves outcasts, but together at all costs) has evaporated in the face of liberalism, greater social tolerance and the empowerment of young people. The shame and rebellion of the old Gretna Green has virtually vanished as the village morphs itself into (what some have described as a rather tacky) wedding industry.

The scandalous marriage getaway has now become a tourist attraction and a sort of ‘wedding theme park’. Couples can spend over £3,000 on a wedding package, buying “exotic flowers, bespoke table settings, unique entertainers and unusual gifts” from the in-house wedding planners.

In contrast to the rather more primitive facilities that early elopers found at the Scottish border (typically a blacksmith, an anvil, some mud and some rain) modern couples can enjoy a spa, cocktails, ensuite bedrooms, floral displays, LCD TVs, DVDs, and a masseuse.

About a fifth of Gretna Green’s marriages take place in The Old Blacksmith’s Shop, the oldest wedding venue in the area. Peter and Sanne were identified as the ‘1:30s’ – a reference to the time they had been booked in to be married - and staff went out on to the street to find witnesses for one of their, now rare, genuine elopes.

After being joined at the anvil (a tradition where the marrying couple touches the blacksmith’s anvil; the anvil is struck with a hammer and the couple is forged together like hot metal) Peter and Sanne found themselves being photographed by coach loads of old ladies who were hanging around The Old Blacksmith’s shop, hoping to see a real pair of runaways.

The old ‘anvil priests’ (ordinary people who had powers to carry out marriage ceremonies in Scotland) on hearing a relative approach would push a couple into a nearby bed, even if the marriage ceremony had not been completed so that it would look like the marriage had been consummated and the family was too late. Or so the story goes.

Now there is accommodation provided for families and couples are encouraged to bring along relatives.

But these changes don’t trouble Lynda Denton, 41, of the Gretna Green Group, the organisation behind the make-over of Gretna’s illicit history.

“You don’t want couples travelling under those conditions: her father would be following, possibly with henchmen in tow. It would be very high drama, and there would be frantic desperation.”

Now, couples must fill in legal forms, book by phone or online and have a schedule organised. Under modern Scottish law, a couple cannot just arrive – the paper work must be sent to registrars and legalities must be dealt with in advance.

Despite treating their elopement as a humorous adventure at the outset (their homemade video shows them collapsing into giggles on the way to the ceremony, as they cheerfully mimic the shameful shotgun weddings of the past), Peter and Sanne could not help but feel emotional as they exchanged vows over the anvil. The sound of the bagpipes as they walked into the ancient marriage room in The Old Blacksmith’s Shop was quite moving, as was the sight of strangers bearing witness to two other strangers at such a monumental moment.

Visitors and Gretna Green boosters believe the romance remains, tucked inside the layer of a few spas, gift shops and chocolate-covered fruit, even if the middle of the night dash has changed into a considered event.

“I’d recommend eloping,” said Peter. “I like a ring on my finger, it’s a nice feeling. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, but it does: there’s a big afterglow.”

And the parents? “They were secretly pleased,” said Peter.

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