Thursday, 7 May 2009

More tales from the lover bank

Where were we? Oh yes, in the tea shop, preferred habitat of MGLW and I.

That's not to say we're always in hostelries whose main products are a hot beverage brewed from the leaves of a plant found in the sub-continent and large slices of fruit cake. Often, but not always.

OK, so on our rather-more-frequently-than-occasionally visits to these emporiums, the plot goes a bit like this. We find a table, I sit down with my back to the room, MGLW sits opposite me and we order the aforementioned provender. The sub-plot is that one of us gets to people-watch and I gaze adoringly at the love of my life (this isn't the romantic bit, it's going to get a whole lot rosier).

Over the years, I've become accustomed to the people-watching antics of my better half. It's not as lonely for me as you'd think, as now and again I am able to contribute with useful advice like "Stop staring" or "Close your mouth, you might catch a fly." If I think her attention is sufficiently distracted, I can always pinch the second complimentary biscuit. You can't imagine what an adrenalin rush that is.

Yesterday's pilgrimage to the altar of high tea and the circle of standing scones didn't follow the usual pattern, however. It began normally enough. Find table, check. Sit with back to room, check. Order huge pot of tea and slabs of cake, check. Gaze get the idea.

Everything's going along nicely, thank you, when suddenly, with a forkful of Victoria sponge cake halfway to sugary bliss, MGLW is staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed over my left shoulder. Before I can caution against further lapses in polite behaviour, it becomes apparent that someone is staring back, equally perplexed. Ah, thinks I, this is a different game. You see, I'm married to one of those kind souls who most of us meet when we're born. No, not the stork or the gooseberry bush, the other one. So every now and then, normally in the High Street or a garden centre, we bump into a family who are really pleased to see MGLW and we are amazed at how big Little Esmerelda has grown or how many years it's been since Armageddon was born.

Back in the tea room, it transpires that we've met 3 generations of a family; mum, grandma and a wee lass, fast asleep in her pushchair. This is mum's second-born, her first is off on a school trip and he is often told the tale of how MGLW saved his life when he was a few days old.

Now whatever occupation we follow, when there's a deadline to meet or an urgent request to fulfil, we tend to think its importance ranks as a matter of life or death. Well, I'm sorry, but no. When you live with someone whose job ACTUALLY involves life and death decisions, when you run the roller coaster ride of joy and despair with them, sharing their soaring happiness or the depths of their pain, then you can imagine how proud I was of my wife upon meeting this family.

Cynicism put on hold, folks. I am married to a truly wonderful person, and now the interweb knows, too.

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