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Beck
and I met on the floor of a local pub, several hours after
closing time. We had a fairly swift romance and were
married a few months later, on the 30th May 1997.
She's a little bit younger than me and not very tall, but
makes up for it with a slightly uncompromising attitude.
This suits me as I can't stand life without someone to
challenge me, although she could admit that I'm always right
just once.
Beck
works for W. H. Shit, sorry, Smith, as a format and space
planner, even though nobody there knows what that is. She
does all the married couple stuff that I don't, and most of
the stuff that I should, which keeps us going. She does
yoga, claimed to be intolerant to dairy products and coffee
and listened to homeopaths when they told her this kind of
rubbish a couple of years ago. I know it's all crap, but she
felt better for it at the time. Now it's all Starbucks and
Muller Fruit Corner, so make up your own mind. She briefly
wanted to become a homeopath, in order to make enough money
through lying to people, that we could afford to live by the
sea. Then she changed her mind and wanted to go into social
work. Now she has no idea, but wants to do whatever it is on
a part-time basis.
Beck
would like me to be thinner and drink less. I can do the
drink less thing pretty well these days, but diets are for
girls. She'd also like me not to be shit with money, but she
likes me for D.I.Y. chores and car fixing abilities. I'd
like to think we split things equally, but we don't. Most
importantly, she's the mother of our little girls, a task she
excels at, and Josie and Katie are the nicest presents I've ever had.
My pride in this woman for delivering our second child with
no intervention or anaesthesia knows no bounds, intended or
not. Bless 'em all, they're loverly! |
