Billygean.co.uk

Monday, October 16, 2006

Like lovers do

And then final year came.

For our two year anniversary I begged and begged to go to Preston and be mothered and go to the famous Caulderbank Restaurant. We did, and I didn't even take any work. That weekend sticks in my mind. it was a tranquil moment right before my foot surgery, and the hardest-working year of my life. I remember the countryside, the bitter air against my face.





We went to Bowland Wild Boar park. We held chicks, and bottle-fed lambs. Mike let the lambs suck on his fingers and I had good-dad fantasies once more. Admittedly, once I made the connection between Wild Boar Park and the wild boar meat for sale in the shop I did start crying, but what's new?









We went to Brighton in January to buy a bike. We knew I would end up going shopping, but this was okay. This bike has resulted in one year's delay, liquidation of two companies and Mike being £1,500 out of pocket. That makes me want to be a lawyer more so I can get it back for him. Nevertheless, it was beautiful, seeing the sea with him for the first time; the simplicities of couples. I remember it was enchanting seeing every season with Mike for the first time, just to see what he wore, whether he got hay fever, whether his hair changed colour.





Mike went on Brainteaser. I skipped lectures and went with him. A rarity; all I did that year was work. I think Mike felt hard done by because I never saw him, and he spent a lot of time alone. I felt hard done by because I never saw him and I had to deal with Victorian idiots.

We both looked at Buddhism. He was better at it than I am, which sort of demonstrates my point (you're not supposed to be competitive). He threw me a 21st party. My sister got married. He raced professionally in Belgium. I got a job. He proved he could cube root 4,569 in his head.













That brings us to now, and Red Peppers last Friday.



What is now? Well, in accordance with Mike's more anal side, we planned our meals in advance of one week so we don't discuss it incessantly. On the other hand, I have not been keeping the room we sleep in tidy evidenced by Mike finding my glasses on the floor next to my bin this morning.

What does this mean? It means this isn't mere writing; brovado to get the readers in. It means everyday, when I walk home from lectures, I want to know how he is. Every night spent working in my room is made difficult because he is downstairs. It means I hope, even when I'm no longer blogging, I have to write many, many more of these things.



It means maybe sometimes I imagine me in white in this photo.

by billygean.co.uk at 9:46 PM |