Joys

On Friday the 26th of February, I had a lovely civil partnership ceremony with my beloved Tom (thank Jane Griffiths – your work towards civil partnerships in the UK mean I will always treasure being a cyber pal). We made it through the whole thing without bursting into tears whilst looking into each other’s eyes.

It was a close thing though. I love that grumpy old git of mine.

Then we had a gorgeous meal with a few friends and family at the Forburys Restaurant before heading off to the wonderful myhotel Brighton for the weekend. Brighton was apparently full of Conservatives at some pointless conference or another that may be less lovely for them in their memories come the election. I do not think any of them stayed in the hotel, shopped in the Lanes alongside us or were in the pubs we drank around for much of the weekend. If they were, I was too happy to notice and missed the opportunity of behaving like a twat towards them. Damn. Anyway, I hope they all had a good time. The husband and I bought presents for each other, went clothes shopping for ourselves, and spent money on clothing for a dog at the gayest pet shop in the world. It was magnificent.

We had to come back to bloody Reading on Sunday the 28th as I needed to be at work the next day, yet my spirits remained high in spite of such damned misfortune.

On Monday, I made it through the day thinking of the evening – namely, taking ownership of the most fantastic puppy in the world. Patch is a staffy, and a Pompey supporter (trust me on this – no scummer he, whatever the husband/wife/might-just-still-call-him-partner says). We could not have taken ownership of him before we had wed. I do not want people to think of our child substitute as being ours out of wedlock. This puppy will be wearing a smoking gown, puffing on a pipe and then discretely peeing on the legs of common people in no time. Excellent. I love it when a plan comes together.

Anyway, ever since, life has been a mix of depressing, hideous lows (work) and wonderful, heavenly highs (cleaning up puppy poop and trying to ease jaws off my wrists and ankles).

It is rare for me to be happy for the majority of my time. Approaching a second full week of it, I thought I would share. And soon, very soon indeed, I WILL BE A COMPLETE WHINGING GIT AGAIN.

Make the most of these moments. They make life worth living.

(PS) I started this message at lunch time. After a full Monday of work, I hate you all again. Didn’t take long, did it? Ah well. X