For the bus driver and all the other women that smiled at me indulgently as I took the large bunch of flowers home this evening: I’m sorry, but they weren’t actually my idea.
And worse, they weren’t even for R.. (It’s the AGM of the Play Centre, and R. needed them to give to a valued member of the team who is leaving.)
I’ve never been very good at that sort of thing. The training, such as it is for New Zealand blokes, never took with me.
But sometimes I did manage to get it right. Unfortunately, that was all a long time ago. The last time I spontaneously bought flowers for R. was, I think, the 1st of September 1995.
It was the first day of spring, sometime before we were married. Or maybe the first day of spring after we were married… no, wait, it can’t have been then, because first we were living in London and then in later years I was at University again and we had no money.
1995 it was. Shocking.
So yes, ten whole years. Which is pretty bad, on the face of it. Note to self:
I. Must. Do. Better.