A Surprise Post

Today is an auspicious day, and not one that it ever occured to me I would see. Not because I thought it wouldn't last this long, but because when things happen you don't think about such things as  anniversaries.

Twenty-five years ago Susan and I were married. It happened at the Plashet Grove registry office in east London, and apart from Susan and I and the Registrar, the only other people there were our witnesses - my Mum and Dad. If we hadn't needed to supply our own witnesses even Mum and Dad wouldn't have been there: that's how low key we wanted to keep it. We told no-one else and the whole thing cost about £100. The people at Susan's work bought her flowers even though she had only been working there a short time. Afterwards we had a half pint of beer at the nearest pub.

We got married for reasons of practicality: because the laws in the UK were so archaic, despite being an established couple of about 5 years duration when we arrived in the UK we weren't each others next of kin - that was our respective fathers, both in Australia. If  something serious had happened or either of us had been hospitalised it could have been a real problem. So we got married in our local registry office, an attractive 19th century building that had a former life as a Carnegie library. Susan took half a day off work and the next day I went off to Australia and America on my own.

25 years, though. Blimey.