Sunday, 1 January 2006

a pox on both your houses

And now, a romantic interlude.

Three years ago, in the early hours, B and I were walking home from a New Year's get together at Dani and R's.

It was the end of the Best Christmas Ever. We had been in quarantine for a fortnight, because B came down with chicken pox on the 20th of December. We were actually quite pleased, because initially we'd thought he was covered in flea bites. He'd done a gig on the 18th and 19th in a hotel in Park Lane in London where he'd kipped under the stage. Apparently some of those posh hotels are notorious among the technicians for having carpets rancid with fleas.

We spent our christmas wrapped in blankets on the sofa, drinking whiskey and applying calamine lotion to his spots at regular intervals. B wants me to add that Piriton tablets were his best christmas present ever - they stopped the itching completely. Kate was in hospital with a bronchial infection, adding to her impressive knowledge of the possible textures and colours of flem. So Vic was Last Man Standing. He posted our christmas dinner through the cat flap. We had no family stress, no pressure to socialise, nothing. It was great.

We'd bought three dozen pigs in blankets for the Annual Christmas Get Together and hadn't gone because of the pox, so we lived on them. I will never be able to eat one again without flinching.

Anyway, New Year was the first time we'd been out in company.

Coming home, it was pelting down with freezing rain.

Opposite the garage on Edinburgh Road, underneath the lamp post with the 'No Dog's Fouling' sign, B proposed to me.

He said "Go on then, shall we get married?"*.

I was so drunk, and so surprised, that I had to lean against the lamp post for support.

The next day, we were both so badly hung over that we skirted round the subject for the whole morning in case we'd imagined it.

But it turned out that neither of us had. So on January 3rd, we went to the registry office and got the paperwork sorted for a very low key ceremony the following April.

And then, dear reader, I married him. Chicken pox scars and all.

* He'd also proposed a lot of other things during the previous year while we'd been dating, a few of which I went along with ;).

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