Dearest You, A year ago today, I put on a dress, prayed to the angels and asked you to marry me. Thank you for telling me to get up off the floor and giving me an empty box. It’s the best empty box I ever got. And this coming from a girl who collects empty boxes. Thank you for sitting with me on the stairs. And sometimes dragging me backwards down them. Yes, I trust you. With my heart. With my…
For Christmas, Dad bought me a copy of The Ultimate Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook. Because that’s the kinda guy he is. I think it was a joint present. ‘You can skip the bits on dating and breaking up. I have, however, highlighted the section on BABIES!’ he said. Since then, the book has sat on our actual coffee table, used as a handy reference guide/random writing prompter. On Friday, I found the book open to this not-so-random page (73): A…
You know that thing going around Facebook where you’re given an age and you have to tell people what you were driving back then, even it was a tricycle? And then people like your post. For a moment you think it’s because they care that you lived in your own little world. But really, they just want you to give them an age to talk about. So the cycle, like life, can begin again. Yeah, that. The age I got was 22.…
Some of you may remember I have a thing for beautiful and nostalgic short films. This is my new favourite: Imagine emails and 2,853 text messages flying around and you’ve got the first 5 months of Sarge and me. Complete with trains and shyness. And now I want paper airplanes at the wedding! What made you happy today?…
It’s been 15 days since I’ve been outside and I’ve been ill for 13 of them. In that times I think I’ve regressed, reading Stephen King and listening to music in bed, and deciding that I might just like It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia. By osmosis. Sarge is sick now, too, see. We are sharing the TV. And the cough syrup. It’s my fault that he’s sick. Because when I’m sick, I get extra mushy. I want to hug the…
