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