Twelve

It’s becoming a thing, eh, to put numbers in the titles of my blog posts. But this number is actually a good one! And another reason for celebration and festive moods. On this day twelve years ago, my wife finally, FINALLY, answered my love calls, after months and months of pathetic struggle. Like one of those bower birds out of an Attenborough documentary I had meticulously prepared for a long time. Only my bower was lined with snakes, tarantulas, and bird skeletons. I was also a bit of a mess. It was a hard sale. But twelve years ago I succeeded.

Without any doubt, the past twelve years were the best of my life. It’s really a pleasure spending all my time with this wonderful woman. We have lived together from day one – she happened to move into the same student house I lived in – and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. In the last two years during the pandemic, we have probably spent more time together, and closer than ever before, with two little ones screaming at us from the sidelines, and despite the stressful conditions we still like each other quite a bit.

And now we’ll pop open a bottle of wine and enjoy an evening together. The little monsters are miraculously asleep. The writing’s done. Time to reflect on twelve amazing years.