Last week the Mr and I celebrated having survived another year of marriage, quite remarkably, to each other. And what better way to mark yet another year of wonderful wedded bliss and matrimonial melodramas, than by having ourselves a very clean weekend away with one another. Plus two.
Happy anniversary Darling.
You see, my old fellow and I are not the most romantic duo you’ll ever meet. Romeo and Juliet we most certainly are not. Having booked this months in advance, as less of a pre-planned anniversary treat and more of a timely coincidence, the only thing on offer this weekend was an advance purchase rate and a couple of complimentary chocolate chip cookies. And with myself, the hormonal back-seat driver, and our very own double-trouble, squabbling, squawking, terrible twosome in tow, our celebratory cruise down the motorway was doomed from the outset. Continue reading “The Seven Year Itch”