It only seems like yesterday that I was a happily single man. Then I got married, had children and became old.
It might not have happened quite as tidily as that, and the chain of causality might not be quite as simple as depicted, but it gives the general idea.
By rights, this should have been titled Thirty Seven Years but Julia resisted my charms for the first nine years that we knew each other. I attribute this to her having poor taste in men when she was younger. She denies this, countering with opinions that I was immature, boorish and often in drink during those nine years, thus rendering myself unsuited to settling down.
I told her it was on “Portrait”
This is clearly just an excuse, as I’m still immature and boorish, but I won’t labour the point as she finally came to her senses.
There are worse ways of spending 28 years.
One of her co-workers trotted out the old chestnut of “you could have killed him and been released by now”.
I can’t say I cared for the way Julia looked at me as she repeated that…