This day nine years ago Becky and I got married.
As always, it’s an excuse for an even quieter night in with some Holy Cow and a bottle of wine. And the kids of course, but we’re training them up on curry and it’s an amazing thing to see, Rosa stuffing her face with rice and lamb korma and all the while making exaggerated YUM! noises.
But why am I writing this instead of spending quality time with Becky? Ahhh, well, the aforementioned Rosa has decided this is one of her nights off from civilised sleeping behaviour, so while she is dealt with I write this.
And looking forward to the Rockford Semillon in the fridge – we went to Rockford in the Barossa on our honeymoon; and from then an early ’90s magnum of their basket press shiraz is laid up patiently awaiting next year, our tenth.
Did I say that life is good? I don’t like to sound smug, because that tends to invite misfortune. But it is.