We were supposed to be going to Wales today as my February chemo treat and also to celebrate our anniversary. Two days in a country house hotel with good food and a spa. Very uncharacteristically I checked the weather forecast on Sunday and deep snow was predicted for the Welsh marches exactly where we were going. So we cancelled or maybe postponed is the more optimistic way to put it. That of course gave me the excuse, as we were saving so much money, to book to go to our favourite Birmingham eatery, Michelin star and all. So tomorrow tasting menu with Sommelier's choice of wine here we come and as we tuck in we will be quids in too.
This time forty two years ago I was stuffing vol-au-vents and making bunting. It was a big wedding over 120 people but done very much on the cheap; my dress was made by my nearly mother-in-law for £1.50; she and my Mom and my aunts and cousins made all the food, my brother and my mate's cousin were the band and my Dad made sure there was enough Asti Spumante and Ansells to keep us happy all night long. You could hardly notice that my Mom never spoke to my Dad, he had left five years before, or that my bridesmaid was six months pregnant.
I had read that the bride should have a long hot bath on the eve of her big day so I brought forward my weekly ablution, yes those were the days! Unfortunately someone noticed this unseasonal use of the immersion heater and turned it off so the bath was not the bath of my dreams, but tepid in the extreme; unlike my groom's ardour of course although he was on the third night of his stag week and was a bit the worse for wear too.
It was freezing cold on the day and the hairdresser got my parting crooked but the sun shone and the Asti sparkled; 42 years on we are still sparkling now and then and I get to have a bath, as hot as I like, every day.