Wednesday, December 5
The Great Anniversary Disaster (Part 4)
Today is our fourth wedding anniversary. A cause to celebrate, of course. Although, for the fourth year running, it has all gone a little bit wrong.
The first year, I dropped lots of hints to Mr Meep that he should arrange me a lovely surprise weekend away somewhere. Despite the hints, he left it until the last minute. He tried to book a weekend in Bath, but the Christmas markets were on and every B&B had been booked up months before. He tried Hay-on-Wye, only to find out there was a mini winter version of the Hay Festival on. However, after ringing most accommodation in Hay, he booked us into a swanky hotel with a lovely restaurant, with thoughts of lovely walks by the river and cosying up with glasses of red wine in old pubs with real fires. It couldn't have been more perfect.
Except that on the day, I woke up with the most horrible cold. I couldn't get out of bed, let alone enjoy lovely food and wine. We had to cancel. Bah.
The next year, I booked us into a really nice restaurant in Cardiff. We were going to have cocktails first, then go for a nice dinner. This time, it was Mr Meep's turn to be ill. A stomach bug this time around. We cancelled.
(Can I just add here that we both very rarely get ill, so this was beginning to feel like a conspiracy.)
Year three and I booked us tickets to see Mitchell and Webb at the Wales Millennium Centre. We both loved Peep Show, so were really looking forward to it. We woke up the morning of our anniversary and could not believe it. Neither of us was ill, we hadn't lost the tickets, the show hadn't been cancelled, the WMC hadn't exploded. It was all looking rather positive.
Shame, then, that Mitchell and Webb were probably the unfunniest act ever in the history of comedy. So bad, in fact, that when we walked out of the auditorium for interval drinks, we kept walking down the stairs, out of the door and home to cwtch up under a blanket with a mug of hot chocolate.
This year, we aimed small. We thought we'd just have a nice day out, then Mr Meep would cook us a posh meal at home. Perfect. It was a simple plan. We're both in good health. What could possibly go wrong?
Yesterday morning, Mr Meep gets a call from an old friend. A lovely lady, she's been going through a bit of a tough time lately, is in a bit of a state and wants to know if she and her three kids can come and stay. Straight away. Last night and today. So they did. So our anniversary day involved all seven of us having a romantic breakfast together (involving lots of Coco Pops and lots of mess), then a mass trip to Barry Island in the wind and lunch at the only place that was open - the world's greasiest caff, complete with even greasier waiting staff and even greasier chips and the original '60s decor (but not in a good way).
Happy 4th, you mumpet!