Days 328 – 334 of Project 365

Days 328-334 of Project 365

328. Twelve (It was our twelfth wedding anniversary today, but we weren't in the mood for traipsing around our wedding castle on such a cold and dreary day, so we took a trip over to Cardiff Bay instead and had lunch in Pizza Express followed by bowling. This tongue of The Boy's is ever present at the moment, it's getting a bit ridiculous!)

329. Tongue Twister (We've started to make our Christmas cards and look what made an appearance during a moment of concentration.)

330. Splat (More Christmas cards!)

331. Sucker (I'm not sure who was the biggest sucker this evening at dinner; The Boy with his pasta or if he thought I was. Not a good evening meal with him throwing up after one spoonful of bolognese. He had been determined that he didn't want the bolognese as it would make him sick, but was fine with the spaghetti. The second he had a spoonful of mince he made himself gag and then lo and behold threw up. I was furious with him, and after he'd been cleaned up he was sent to his room for five minutes, before being given the choice of eating his dinner or going to bed hungry. He chose to eat his dinner. I am not a completely horrid mother though, I did remove the bolognese so he had plain pasta.)

332. Tech Expert (I received a promotional Christmas card with a small screen and a motherboard with a nationwide supermarket's Christmas advert on it. When they'd asked me if they could send me a little something for Christmas, this was not what I had in mind. We stripped the card covering off and The Boy investigated the different computer components in it; at least it was useful for something!)

333. A Letter (The Boy came home from school to discover that his magic elf door had opened while I was getting him and someone had left a letter for him. A note from Edward the Elf saying how he'd been looking forward to seeing him again, it was magical to see The Boy remember who Edward was. More magical than that though was seeing The Boy read the entire letter by himself; I was so proud.)

334. Getting Bigger (We met up with my brother and his family at the museum and took part in a ice age workshop making a Christmas card at the end of it. Afterwards we went and had a go one a few rides at the Winter Wonderland which occupies the space in front of the Civic Centre for December. This is the first time that The Boy has gone on a carousel on his own!)

TheBoyandMe's 365 Linky

Country Kids: In The Castle

Today is our 11th wedding anniversary and we decided to take The Boy to see our wedding venue.

After we'd examined all the marvellous spiral staircases and hidden doorways, then marvelled at the towers and turrets, we decided to explore the fake moat (it's halfway up Caerphilly mountain, there's no way that the moat wouldn't have drained away. Plus Castell Coch was a folly for the Marquis of Bute and is full of decorative extras that have never had a function: drawbridge and moat being two of them) and splash in the puddles which were attempting to fill it up.

coombe mill

A Crumpled Piece of Paper

The leaves are falling from the trees, the rain is pitter-pattering more heavily, and the nights are drawing in which means only one thing: it's coming up to that time of year again. Mr. TheBoyandMe knows it as well, I can sense him twitching.

No, not Christmas! Something else has to happen first before the festivities for baby Jesus and Father Christmas.

And woe betide Mr. TheBoyandMe if he gets it wrong.

Which is why he carries a note around in his wallet: akito roses, white spiky chrysanthemums, eucalyptus leaves, purple lisianthus. The piece of paper has become faded and ripped around the corners, but it's there and has been since the first time. Since our first anniversary. Years later however, it's looking a little battered.

Yet every year in mid-November he toddles off one lunchtime to one of the many florists in Cardiff to do his husbandly duty. He will ask for the flowers on his crumpled bit of paper and insist on only those flowers in them, not to be fobbed off with a cheaper white rose or normal chrysanthemums, they must be those and despite the akito roses having to be ordered in, he will be presented with a beautiful bouquet of flowers to pass on to me, his adoring wife.

As you may have twigged, in just under a month's time, Mr. TheBoyandMe and I will be celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary. Tin! (There's exciting hey? I bought my sister some cooking tins for hers, hope she reciprocates, mine are looking a bit battered)

We were fresh-faced and had everything in front of us on that cold day in November 2001. I was just 24 and he was 26, and we had a small but cosy wedding. It cost £4,500. How many people could put together a wedding nowadays for that? We didn't scrimp on anything; I had a raw silk and lace wedding dress made for me, a vintage Rolls-Royce took me to the fairytale castle aside the wooded mountain overlooking Cardiff, there was a three-course meal in a top-Cardiff hotel (for £17.50 a head! McDonald's would charge that nowadays if you mention the word wedding alongside cheese-burger) and we stayed in the five-star Rocco Forte hotel that night. In the same suite that Robbie Williams had stayed in, but not at the same time (we had a television when we stayed there, his was removed because he'd previously thrown it into the bay).

This was my wedding bouquet:

I loved those flowers, even though they were heavy as anything, and was devastated when they died. They lasted a fortnight which just goes to show the freshness of flowers that come from a company like Interflora. Mr. TheBoyandMe knows how upset I was when they withered, which is why he makes such an effort to always get the same types.

Ten years on, and times have changed. We may not have much disposable income for regular flowers, but I can guarantee that by the end of November there will be a beautiful bouquet of flowers in the living room.

And the crumpled piece of paper will be back in Mr. TheBoyandMe's wallet, safe until next year.

The words and sentiments are my own and honest. The crumpled piece of paper is genuine; it's looking past its best-before.

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