23 years ago…

Friday 30^th September 2011

…today, I got married to Mark.  It seems amazing to me that so many years can have gone by so quickly.  And they said it wouldn’t last!  We have no idea who ‘they’ are or were, and I’m pretty sure no-one said that but it’s just a little standing joke.  Humour me. We got married in Birmingham, at the central register office, which was at that time located at the top end of Broad Street, the end that isn’t Five Ways, now an achingly cool social area, then – um, not so much.  However, across the road was (and still is) the Rep Theatre, where we had our reception, complete with a traditional jazz band, the major item in our wedding budget.  It was just a perfect day, hot and sunny, which is amazing luck in late September – as it is today, in fact.  We went out together for dinner the night before, I even remember what I ate and drank!  The next day, I drove into Five Ways to pick up some new reading glasses, then back home to wait for my mother and father, aunts and uncle, to drive down to Birmingham from Manchester, drink sherry, get ready and take photos in the back garden.  Then 2 black cabs arrived and we drove into the city, from where we lived which was Quinton (no, Quinton, you’re not  Harbourne, OK? You’re not even Quinbourne, get over it). We had no bridesmaids or best man, no cake, few speeches and it was lovely.  After the supper, (which was duck, food is obviously a memory trigger for me!) we drove to north Wales and stayed in Abersoch, a small coastal town where as a child, I had had holidays with my family.  My main memory of that part is that our good weather luck ran out on 1 October!  But it was still lovely to have a week there.  The second part of the ‘honeymoon’ was spent in Spain.  Money was tight, and Mark had been invited to be the ‘guest teacher’ for a golf party that the club he then worked at as the Pro was holding.  The chap who was organising this offered us a free week out there, if Mark would teach and play every day, so we agreed.  I remember that we flew into Gibraltar airport, which is minuscule, and I felt I was in Casablanca, and then we had to cross the border (run way) on foot to the coach that drove us to the resort, which I can’t recall at all now.  It was a bit odd, that working honeymoon.  There were wives on the tour – not playing, don’t be daft – and they were lovely but they all knew each other and I was much younger and crippled by shyness, so mainly, I swam or hid in our room until Mark was released from his duties and we could go out.  Looking back, it just seems weird. To celebrate, this weekend we are going to ride a 66.2 mile sportive in the New Forest.  I am absolutley dreading it.  Wish us luck, we’ll need it. In other news, there is a new kit on the site: which is available here. Another will be on next week, and it is a baby blanket, knitted in DK cotton and simply embellished with beaded lace hearts and cables: