Tag Archives: wedding anniversary

Anniversary!

We had an interesting conversation after I picked Julia up from work yesterday.

“I’ve bought steak for tea.” I said.

“I thought we were going to have that for our anniversary.” she said.

This was news to me as I thought that I’d had the idea all on my own. She has probably been using mind control techniques to manipulate my weak and feeble man’s mind.

“I thought we’d have it early, as part of a longer celebration.”

“You’ve forgotten when it is, haven’t you?”

“No I haven’t. It’s later this week.I just thought I’d prolong the joyous celebration.”

She wasn’t convinced and went on to narrow it down and corner me like a rat in a trap. It isn’t fair, I can’t drive through traffic, talk and lie convincingly at the same time.

It’s today. This time next year I am going to search “wedding anniversary” and check the date. WP may yet prove to be good for something apart from blogging and providing shoddy “improved” services.

Thirty one years. Where have they all gone?

I’m going to think about that as I go about decluttering,

The pictures are from Huttoft beach car park on our last (and only) trip to the coast this year. It’s just a long concrete strip of parked cars and a stretch of beach. Very old-fashioned and very relaxing, particularly when trying to avoid social contact.

Two ladies on the beach at Huttoft

Fishermen on the beach at Huttoft

I’ve had the photos since we went, but haven’t got round to using them.

More Trials and Tribulations

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It’s my 30th wedding anniversary next week, as I may have mentioned. I am married to a patient and forgiving woman with low standards in men. I am not sure if I have covered that before, but she certainly has. Last time she mentioned it was in relation to yesterday’s post.

It seems that if I’m the best that Western civilisation can mange it’s no wonder the world is in a mess. Amongst talk of male chauvinism, lazy stereotyping and Les Dawson (who was a well-upholstered British comedian with a great repertoire of mother-in-law jokes) it emerged that she felt I had slandered her in relation to snoring.

If I had my time over again I will resist the urge to explain that it was libel, not slander. It did not really help. Accuracy, it seems, is not always appreciated.

Fortunately, I have managed, by a mix of low cunning and good luck, to work out what to get Julia for a wedding anniversary present – perfume. I ordered it a couple of days ago from Amazon and it was delivered this afternoon.

Unfortunately,they didn’t deliver it to me.

They emailed this morning to say it would be delivered today, then again to say it had been left with a neighbour. I assumed that this meant it had been delivered to the home address despite me specifying the work address.

On my return home I found this wasn’t the case. There was no card through the door. So I checked on-line. They had delivered it to a neighbour of the shop, at 3.41, despite me being at work until 4.30.

I have just had a frustrating on-line “conversation” trying to find out how this could be. They are very apologetic, but short on facts.

I was very tempted to point out that if I wanted a bad parcel delivery service I would have engaged Hermes. In terms of poor service – slowness, half the parcel missing after a “security check”, theft and drivers cutting corners, Hermes are unequalled. I use them whenever I feel the need to have a delivery go unpredictably wrong. They rarely disappoint.

At least with Amazon it’s a one-stop situation – you buy from them direct and they even pack the soon-to-be-lost parcel for you. It saves time, but, to be honest, I do feel a certain loyalty to Hermes after all those hours chatting on the phone asking where my parcel is, or why my customer has just rung to complain half of it is missing.

There are, to be fair, other bad carriers apart from Hermes. You could give Parcelforce a try and, if you fancy a treat of a retro nature, move some goods by British Rail.

I will say no more. The anecdote about British Rail losing 400 day-old chicks is not very entertaining. Nor is the story of my marathon drive to track them down.

This is probably a good time to finish. More reused photos again as I keep leaving my camera at work. THey are a reminder of summer.

Small Tortoiseshell

More of the Same Old Drivel…

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I’m sure I wrote half a post earlier on today, though I can’t recall what it was about or why I didn’t finish. This senior moment stuff is really starting to take hold.

Sunday, as usual is a turmoil of competing strands, including sleeping, eating, napping and watching excessive amounts of Diagnosis Murder. And I’d meant to do so much…

Not that it’s so different from every other day of my life. I always mean to do so much.

I started by deciding not to get up even though I was fully awake at 7am. At 8.30 I decided to get up in “ten minutes” and at 10.30 Julia shouted upstairs that if I didn’t get up my breakfast would go cold.

Breakfast!

It turned out to be a lie: it was already cold. She had foolishly taken my “ten minutes” claim at face value. You’d have though she’d have learned after 30 years…

It serves me right for being cuddly, laid back and quirky, I suppose. The exact words that were used were fat, lazy and unreliable, but I know she doesn’t mean it. Which reminds me, I must look at the embroidery on the wall to check out the exact date of my Wedding Anniversary. It’s at the end of the month and, with it being the 30th anniversary, I’d better get it right. She cuts me a bit of slack for the minor ones, but I’m supposed to be making a fuss of this one.

It’s five years ago since I was last expected to remember so it’s not too onerous.

I just had a quick look at some anniversary gifts, like this engraved glass plaque, because nothing says “I Love You” like something that looks like it comes from a promotional gifts catalogue. Even I can see this would not be a good choice for a main gift, though I might chance it as a secondary gift, with the added bonus that I could have the date engraved on it.

I do like this. Possibly not as a wedding anniversary gift though. Too aerodynamic.

Then I searched for pearl jewellery.

I’m going for a lie down now, as my bank balance is feeling faint.

Seal pup – Donna Nook, Lincolnshire

Soon be that time of year again. A cold day on the coast watching seals.

29th Wedding Anniversary

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We’ve just celebrated our 29th Wedding Anniversary. The traditional gift is, it seems, furniture, which I take as a sign that the romance may have faded.

I broke with this tradition and gave Julia a silver brooch and chocolates. Actually it wasn’t much of a break with our tradition as I normally give her a jewellery and chocolates. She likes jewellery and chocolates, and it saves me having to do much thinking. I made sure she had plenty of chocolate so she could share it round.

The longevity of our marriage owes little, as regular readers may guess, to my qualities as a husband. It does, however, vindicate my policy of waiting for the right woman, even if she did make me wait nine years. By “right” woman, I mean, of course, one with low standards in men.

The traditional gift for 30 years is pearls. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I know that the value of a virtuous woman is a price above rubies, but have you seen the cost of pearls?

Twenty Eight Years!

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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…

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Life after the Care Farm