Anniversaries and coincidences

Every year, I’m taken by surprise by the fact that my wedding anniversary coincides with my wife’s.

Don’t worry. I’m perfectly prepared to admit that it isn’t really a coincidence and that I shouldn’t be surprised by it. The feeling is no doubt caused by the fact that it’s the only anniversary of its kind: others are individual, such as birthdays, or public, such as Christmas or, when we’re being French, the 14th of July. It’s therefore a little different when two of us celebrate the same day.

Today, as it happens.

What makes it even stranger, however, is that there’s a real coincidence today. Our granddaughter’s birthday falls on the same day. 

That wasn’t something we planned. In fact, our wedding involved pretty minimal planning of any kind: it was the only day our local registry office could fit us in and still allow us to be sure that it would occur before the likely birth of our first son. And that was important because, had he been born before we were married, he would have had French nationality alone and not British as well. As French law then stood, that would have left him liable to call up at eighteen for several months of completely worthless square-bashing and route marches, as a national serviceman in the French army. .

By the time he actually reached eighteen, French law had changed and he only had to do a single day’s service. I won’t repeat the story here of how it took him several attempts to do that day, because I’ve told it before, but he eventually completed it without much difficulty. That meant we didn’t have to be in such a tearing hurry back in 1983, but hey, there was little point in hanging around and I wasn’t sorry to make sure he’d be at least as much a Limey as a Frog anyway. In any case, we had no idea then we didn’t need to help him avoid the horror of national service (we didn’t know we were going to have a boy, because we preferred to be surprised than to cheat with an ultrasound, but it was always a possibility).

A little coincidence. On top of the large one.
On top of what isn’t a coincidence at all

The other coincidence, this particular year, is that the eleventh day of January happens to be our granddaughter’s eleventh birthday. That’s not something that will ever happen to her again. Come to think of it, it’s our thirty-third wedding anniversary, three times eleven, but I may be straining a bit to establish that as a coincidence particularly worthy of note.

Still, the anniversary and the birthday are worth marking anyway.

So to my granddaughter, happy birthday. To my wife, happy anniversary. And happy anniversary to me too. 

Uncoincidentally.

Happy anniversaries and an affectionate feline

Marking memorable moments 

A former boss once asked me, ‘David, you know the best way of ensuring you never forget your wedding anniversary?’

‘No,’ I dutifully fed him the reply he wanted.

‘Forget it once,’ he told me.

Funnily enough, our marriage hasn’t been like that at all. For the first 22 years, Danielle forgot the anniversary each and every year, and in all but one of them I alone remembered. So year after year I’d turn up with a bunch of flowers, and Danielle would say ‘oh - is it today?’

Seven years ago that all changed with the birth of our granddaughter Aya, coincidentally on the very day of our anniversary, 11 January. At least, I hope it was a coincidence, because otherwise I’d have to start accepting the intervention of supernatural forces that I’ve always found it more comforting to deny.

Anyway, with something really important by which to remember the day, Danielle’s never forgotten it since.

So tonight we celebrated our twenty-ninth anniversary. And Aya’s seventh birthday, of course.

Well, not exactly celebrated,though Danielle’s potato salad was outstanding. We marked it, at least. We’re saving ourselves for next week in California when Danielle will be out every day on the ski slopes above Lake Tahoe, while I’ll be indoors discussing product strategy.

And how’s that not an appropriate way to celebrate?

29 years - the moment deserves celebration

Mixed messages from Misty.

A strange transformation has come over our cat Misty. He has taken to coming and lying on my lap, even at one point abandoning Danielle’s to choose mine. He stops to greet me when I let him in, instead of just pushing past to get at his food, protesting if there isn’t enough. 

He treats me like a human being, even sometimes like a fellow cat.

It’s actually quite troubling. I mean, I’ve known for years that he’s a worryingly talented cat, something that can have quite disturbing effects. For instance, as the three of us were standing on our doorstep once, while Danielle was opening the front door, I casually commented that Misty was putting on a little weight. Up went his tail and his nose, and he stalked away. For the next 24 hours, he’d have nothing to do with me.

I’m concerned now that from an understanding of spoken English, he’s now graduated to reading the language too. In a recent blog, I made some comments about his attitude towards me which he may have regarded as hurtful. Perhaps he’s putting all this effort into showing me that he deserves my affection.

Misty, you don’t need to. Very nice to have you lying on my lap from time to time, to have you purring beside me, but you don’t need to force things. I liked you even when you treated me with contempt and bit me when I didn’t jump to do your bidding. 

Relax. Be yourself. That’s the way I like you anyway.