THIS week my husband and I celebrated our six year anniversary.
There’s nothing like an occasion such as this to put into perspective just how much times (and one’s relationship) have changed.
Back in the early days when I was still Anna Clarke and I looked youthful and unstressed, Smithy and I would probably have marked the event by exchanging romantic gifts and cards filled with communications of our undying love for each other.
We’d have gone for a meal where we’d have drunk too much and had both dessert AND coffee because we had two incomes and no children and didn’t have to worry about the bill or being up at 6am the next day.
This year I realised the night before that I’d forgotten all about our milestone, so I had to dash to Tesco at 10pm on the pretext of buying cat food to get Smithy a card and a present.
I wrote the card the next morning in the bathroom (so I could lock the door and not risk being rumbled) while Smithy got the baby dressed.
He handed me a card that still had the price tag on, smiled lovingly at me and said: “The last six years have been…oh god the baby’s just pounced on the cat!!”
Then we all went out for lunch.
Smithy and I decided to forgo a starter and all but inhaled our main courses (we’re on borrowed time with a baby who can go from 0 to screaming the place down in approximately two seconds) which turned out to be a good call as our darling offspring got bored and started to throw peas at her fellow diners, prompting a speedy exit.
By the time the baby was in bed we were fit for nothing but staring at the TV in silence.
Still, I must count my blessings: I’m fortunate enough to have a husband who spent a whole £1.49 on my anniversary card.
Who said romance is dead?
Article first published in The Westmorland Gazette on March 17, 2016.