The Youngest of the Darling Daughters had been entrusted with an important mission by Mr B. Can you guess what it was?
didn’t until we wended our way through Marks and Spencer’s, past the rows of Christmas jumpers and cosy slippers, to the flower section where my daughter explained that she was to buy me some rather special roses, a gift from Mr B, to mark the
fact that today was exactly 54 years since we met in the most romantic of settings. As in, outside Woolworths in Sittingbourne High Street.
When we were
first married and Mr B bought me flowers he used to transport them home in the saddle bag of his trusty bicycle before producing them - slightly crushed and having shed a few leaves along the way - with a flourish and a self-satisfied grin at having adequately
demonstrated his Romantic Side without ever having to actually walk along a road carrying a bouquet in full view of passers-by. These were, remember, the Olden Days when Real Men didn’t “do” flowers.
I wasn’t expecting Mr B to remember the date - but I had misjudged him. “You know what today is, don’t you?” he asked me first thing this morning. And, no, he wasn’t anticipating
the answer to be “Thursday?” He proceeded to take great delight in recounting the story of The Day We Met to the Lovely Louise who comes in every morning for an hour to help me out with caring for Mr B.
It was fortunate that the Youngest of the Darling Daughters happened to be around to run his Special Errand for him. She’d arrived the previous day with grandkids Jack and Hazel in tow so that
we could celebrate Jack’s twentieth birthday with him - okay, so he had already celebrated on his actual birthday but, as I am wont to say, why celebrate a birthday once, when you could celebrate it twice? Particularly when you can follow up a tasty
curry and a home-made chocolate birthday cake with a few games of Bananagrams.
So to today and our trip into town where I succeeded in (i) ticking two more
presents off my Christmas shopping list; (ii) buying the wherewithal for a celebratory dinner for Mr B and me; and (iii) choosing, at our daughter’s bidding, two dozen beautiful long-stemmed roses as per Mr B’s instruction. There was no way they
would have fitted in Mr B’s saddle bag. Always supposing he still owned a bicycle, you understand.
The roses filled not one, but two vases, one of
which graced our dining room table this evening as Mr B and I toasted each other with a rather special bottle of wine and talked about the main events of those 54 years. A wedding day - lots of people gave us six months at the most - followed by the birth
of four amazing children who went on to delight us, over time, with our Tremendous Ten grandchildren. So many good times to look back on.
We always remark on the
fact that poor old Woolworths is no more - but that here we are, the two of us, still standing after all this time. Inextricably bound together by fifty-four years of a Life Shared. It’s true that today holds its challenges for us but there is something
rather special about facing those challenges together. It’s the latest chapter in the book we are writing together.
Happy anniversary of the Day We
Met, dear Mr B. Thank you for my beautiful roses. And for the last 54 years...