Thursday, April 26, 2007

 

An Eighth of a Century Later…

Today’s our twelfth-and-a-halfth anniversary! After a late night when my beloved serenaded me to sleep with the Kroll song, Richard and I were up early for a romantic morning of presents, wondering what to do for dinner, discussing Doctor Who and shouting at the Today Programme. Awwhhh. Thanks to Liberal Democrat Blogs Aggregated, too, for giving us a special private day to ourselves and discouraging anyone from peeking in at our blogs; at least, both mine and Millennium’s have vanished from the listings (so much for his latest on Sir Mr the Merciless and mine on free Doctor Who books!).

After a horrible journey in to work this morning with a fire on another line overloading the DLR, poor Richard’s not home yet this evening, so I hope the trains have been faster and less packed. Still, I have dinner ready to go when he gets in, and one of the presents that took too long in the post has finally turned up for me to wave at him when he gets in (the unlikely concept of a Philip K Dick cartoon). What other presents have there been, you’re wondering? Knowing my taste for melodrama, I now have another film of Richard III; knowing my taste for film noir, I now have both The Blue Dahlia and The Black Dahlia. It was only after I’d opened them that my beloved realised he’d given me Richard and Flowers, bless him! While I’m afraid my own gifts couldn’t really compete for instinctive puntastic ability, I did think he’d be amused by a bag of chocolate. Not just any bag, you understand; Richard frequently gives our relatives dainty little selection bags from Clarins, so when I saw a similar arrangement with romantic chocolates at the overpriced but classy Hotel Chocolat, I couldn’t resist giving him a taste of his own medicine. The fact that the shop was entirely staffed by slim, pretty young men had nothing to do with it – not my type, though I have to admit the Carry On side of my nature was sorely tempted when they glided round me (their sole customer at the time) with little trays of chocolates, asking “Would sir like a taste?” Fortunately, I was able to restrain my tongue and just use it to appreciate their chocolates, so I’m here to greet Richard rather than in court on a sexual harassment charge.

And here he is! So I must go to prepare more chocolate (and other things). Toodle pip! Oh, and most importantly – an eighth of a century later, I still love him very much. Here’s to a quarter of a century!

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Comments:
A very happy anniversary to you both! I hope you're enjoying yourselves, and that you've had a wonderful day.

(I sympathise entirely about the Today Programme, but it was nothing like as bad as David Millipede on Monday. I had to switch him off before I did damage to the radio.)

My Mum and Dad are having their 25th anniversary this year, and as I type this, they're on a cruise round south east Asia to celebrate. They've had to put up with me for the past almost 21 years, so by now, I'm sure they're in desperate need of a break! They would have had less stress over the years if they'd had a fluffy elephant instead ...

Anyway, congratulations, and all the best!
 
Looks like Blogger (as it is always their fault) couldn't cope with me asking it to list your posts by published date and so didn't show anything.
As with most of the bugs which happen on LibDemBlogs they occur whilst I have no access to a PC, so I couldn't apply a temporary fix.
 
Awwhh, thank you, Jonny! Your parents sound like they’re enjoying themselves, too (and I’m sure you’re no trouble to look after).

And thanks for the fix, Ryan; I wanted to be gently tongue-in-cheek rather than give you grief. I did notice that it was back up this morning when I saw a certain fluffy toy tearing herself away from her busy schedule of marching to do more stalking. Just as Jonny kindly congratulated us on our anniversary, Pink Dog has marked the occasion by generously congratulating us – oh, I’m wrong, congratulating herself (shome mistake, shurely?). At least she got the message right on this one: I love Richard!
 
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