Today I’ve been floored in a number of ways, but perhaps not as comprehensively as I was this evening, when I shared a bottle of fine champagne with my Englishman.
The champagne has been sitting in the fridge since our wedding anniversary (which was on the 23rd of May!) but there just hasn’t been time to grab it and have the picnic we’d planned. Or there’s been time, but weather reminiscent of biblical times when Noah was building the Ark.
And other times when we could have easily broken the bottle over each other’s head. As husbands and wives sometimes want to do, to demonstrate their affection for one another.
Whatever the reason there just hasn’t been the right moment. Until tonight, when we grabbed the rare occurence of a fine relatively warm evening and decided to head for a picnic up on White Hill. My Englishman grabbed his camera, I grabbed the champagne and both happy with our respective ‘precious’, we headed out the door. Half way to the picnic possie we bailed on the bucolic beauty of the North Hampshire Downs and pulled into a local pub, and there we celebrated our wedding anniversary over the salubrious menu of tuna steak, an anorexic guinea fowl accompanied by lashings of Banofee pie and Eton Mess. But not all on the same plate.
We held hands over the table and toasted each other thus:
“Here’s to surviving the bad times, so we can cherish the good ones.”
And here’s today’s Photoadayjuly entry – On the Floor.
