'Loads of love' read the text.
Immediately prompting me to remember what I had missed.
In the five years since my wife's death, I regularly get messages from folks on certain anniversaries. That of her death, her birthday, and to which this referred, our wedding anniversary.
One of the reasons for getting married on the 21st of June, was that it would be easy to remember, with it coinciding with being the longest day of the year.
Apparently that plan was floored, as I managed to forget it this year.
I would have been in so much trouble.
And that makes me smile.
It reminded me of the
few many times that I did get in trouble for being a bit rubbish at stuff. Samantha knew that I am not a big fan of 'days' preferring to show my love for folks at a time and format of my choosing.
She accepted my policy, but would have preffered me to abandon it at times, as it was socially less embarrassing to tell people what lovely souless shit I had done for her, rather than to explain why she was bereft of a valentines card.
She knew I loved her, and to me that was all that mattered. However I did conform at times, offering stuff as convention deemed it necessary.
However if I was ever in the bad books, for swearing in front of elderly relatives, for forgetting some social event or for delaying my responses a nano-second too long to the booby trapped questions such as: Does this make me look fat? Or, Do you like my hair like this?
She had a charming punishment for me.
Hitting me in the pocket.
She was genuinely not bothered, but would use a faux pas as a mechanism for reward. We would laugh so much about it. The grading of any misdemeanor would be go along the lines of:
Samantha: 'Well, that's a pair of shoes.'
Me: 'Yes, accepted, but surely more Top Shop than Jimmy Choo?'
Well today Samantha I know you'd not be fobbed off with last season's stuff at Bicester Shopping Village, and Jimmy would be a few quid better off.
But we'd still be smiling.
As am I now.