Twenty five years ago today (it was a Wednesday) , I woke up with butterflies in my tummy. ‘Tonight’ I was going on a date, a blind date in fact, meeting someone for a drink.
All day I was twitchy. My workmates (of 7 weeks) were concerned, and when my supervisor finally got my evening plans out of me, she beamed and told me it was about time!
I decided to walk to the pub. It was only a mile or so away, and my date had told me his car registration number, so I thought I’d be OK for a lift home. If we didn’t like each other, no problem, there was a bus stop immediately outside.
I positioned myself on the wall in front of his vehicle and smoked three cigarettes (I was a 40 a day gal, urgh!) before plucking up the courage to go in.
A bloke was coming out of the bar and making his way to the car.
‘So this heap’s yours, is it?’ were my first words. Terrific, an insult.
Despite my delay in going in, I wasn’t late, so I guess he’d thought better of it and was trying to make a discreet escape. FOILED!
Actually, we had a good night. We liked each other despite having little in common, and conversation never dried up. He took me home, opening the passenger door for me (a first) and making sure I was comfortable before getting in himself.
Come October, we rented a flat together, then the following year, we bought our first house, getting engaged in the summer.
Two years to the day we met, I woke up with butterflies. So did he.
It was our wedding day, a quiet affair with just 3 witnesses, both sets of parents and ourselves at the Registry Office.
I wore a purple and black dress with a black jacket and silk orchid corsage, and he wore his best trousers, shirt and leather jacket with a handmade tissue paper carnation. I have a photo somewhere of him with two such carnations either side of his head like a pair of ear muffs. He’s wearing the biggest grin ever!
We had sugar puffs and rice crispies for confetti, and he’d taken a pair of handcuffs just in case I changed my mind (no chance) with the intention of chaining me to the railings until I said Yes!
We hadn’t told anyone else of our wedding ‘Date’, which put Sister’s back up as she had promised both of her daughters that they could be bridesmaids.
Whilst my Bro and work friends understood our reasons for no fuss, they still haven’t forgiven me (tough) .
So here we are, twenty three years wed, still Soul Mates.
For the first time, I haven’t got Hubby a card, not even a handmade one. It doesn’t mean I love him any less, it’s just that things have been all over the place lately and I like to put a lot of thought and care into my efforts, especially for Him.
Over the years, I have tried to keep with tradition and ‘gifts’ in association with the number of years passed.
1. Paper (first card)
2. Cotton (I bought him a new shirt)
3. Leather (I gave him a book marker)
4. Books (Tiggywinkles hedgehog book)
5. Wood (sadly the year my Dad died)
6. Candy (huge bar of chocolate)
7. Copper (Teddy Bear money box for ‘coppers’)
8. Bronze (bronze effect statuette of rearing horse)
9. Pottery (a new tea mug)
10. Tin (tin of cashew nuts, his favourite)
11. Steel (a 24 inch steel ruler for his tool box)
12. Linen (invested in some new sheets)
13. Lace (a new tablecloth)
14. Ivory ( a small stuffed elephant, he gave me a gold one)
15. Crystal (a glass pyramid I saw in a Third World curios and mystic arts shop)
20. China (some new dinner plates)
There is no special ‘marker’ for 16, 17, 18, 19, 21, 22, 23 or 24, but for me, every day, not just our anniversary, is a reminder of finding someone who loves me for who I am. He is my Rock, and he will never fail me. I am truly Blessed.
Tonight, we are going to push the boat out and whilst I cook the rice, Hubby is going down to the local Chinese Takeaway for the rest of our celebratory meal.
Happy Anniversary Honey.
(and I want the world to know it)