Read the following article about visiting weddings and put the verbs in brackets into a form that fits in the gap. There is one example (0) at the beginning.

Gap-fill exercise

Fill in all the gaps, then press "Check" to check your answers. Use the "Hint" button to get a free letter if an answer is giving you trouble. Note that you will lose points if you ask for hints!
A couple of weekends ago, I (0) went (go) to my 50th wedding. Everyone I have mentioned this to has pulled a rather strange face, as though to say, ‘You count the weddings you go to? What unhinged variety of cross-eyed lunatic does that?’ But like so much of lasting value in life, this began with a conversation in a pub. Back in 1997, I (1) (moan) to my old friend Terence about how many weddings I was having to go to. People I knew simply wouldn’t stop (2) (get) married. So how many in all? asked Terence. I don’t know, said I. It could, and probably should, have ended there. But my freelance career (3) (pass) through one of its periodic dips, and I had slightly too much time on my hands, so I went through old diaries, made some calls, studied my cheque book stubs and compiled a list. Aged 37, I (4) (be) to 38 weddings. Once you know you have been to 38 weddings, you (5) (help) but count. If your mind works in a certain way, a list can be a thing of beauty. As middle age takes root it’s important that we set ourselves new targets, define new goals, in order to keep the intellectual juices (6) (flow). For me, that target became the 50th wedding. Marooned for a year on 48, I (7) (save) by an old friend’s slightly rushed second wedding this spring, and earlier this month, when the eldest daughter of an old American friend of my long-time girlfriend married an English banker in the leafiest Kent village imaginable. At weddings, irony is suspended for the day. Even the brutal sarcasm of former boyfriends and girlfriends of the happy couple, who may have been invited just to rub their noses in it, can be placed in context. Certain things, though, never change. When the priest asks if anyone knows of any just cause or impediment why these two people (8) (join) in holy matrimony, at least one person will laugh audibly and around a quarter of the congregation will look around at the door, expecting Hugh Grant (9) (burst) in. The best man problem remains acute. You will never get a friendlier, more supportive audience for a speech in your life, so most best men never begin to realise how disastrously their speeches (10) (fail). Many grooms attempt to solve the problem by appointing as their best man someone who barely knows them and so cannot embarrass them unduly. One monomaniac of my acquaintance chose himself for the job. There was no one he trusted more and it gave him the opportunity to make two speeches. We all knew the marriage (11) (last), and his wife might have had an inkling by the end of the evening. As it happens, I was best man myself not so long ago, for my friend Terence, who finally got married, aged 53, to an Australian woman of high intelligence and impeccable good taste. He has said he will be happy to return the favour one day, whenever the call comes. Because that may be the strangest thing about all this: I have been to 50 weddings, but not one of them (12) (be) my own.