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On Monday evening we toddled off to the Quaint Historic Market Town where we used to live.  We ate good food and drank fine wine in a lovely little restaurant.  I wore my pearl necklace for only the second time (it’s been sitting on top of the wardrobe, tucked up safely in a posh box which has been gathering copious amounts of dusty-ness; I’d forgotten how small and dainty and sweet it is) and got quite giggly.  We were undercharged for drinks, but *ssshhh*.

We did this because it was our second wedding anniversary yesterday. 

Would you have married me if we’d already known about these illnesses?

He’s a daft plonker sometimes.  He breaks my heart and makes me laugh, all at the same time. 

But I’m leaving him this weekend … he’ll have to fend for himself and remember to take his thriftyseventyeighth million pills twice a day.  Or perhaps I shall prod him with a gentle text, or two. 

I will sit on a grubby train tomorrow evening, and take Mumsy to London to visit the Queen so that we can do some family history stuff on Friday.  Oooh, exciting.  I had a sudden spurt of family history stuff this morning; I should have been getting the website for work finished, or getting myself motivated for my photography course, or maybe even … gosh! … cleaning, but no.  My ancestors were banging on the door and clamouring for some attention.  I tried to sneak past them as I only needed my gtgt-grandfather’s death details, but they spied me and begged me to waste my day off doing things for them.  They’re a pesky bunch.  I did find out some more stuff, which was odd because I really thought I’d wrung ancestry.co.uk dry.  I am still not related to Henry VIII, Joan of Arc or Jesus though.  *sigh*

I must do some scanning.  And some packing.  Ack.  And to think I had a more interesting post lined up …

please God bless my blokey as I leave him all on his lonesome xxx Elsabeth

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