It was a dark and stormy night . .. Well, it was a wet and windy October Sunday night when there was a knock on the door of my flat. A gang of 5 guys all trouped in to a room that could barely hold me and one visitor. They all shared the B&B accommodation. On a Sunday night in Wales, nothing was open - no pubs, nothing - and Barry, a friend of mine, had said 'I know where we can go and get a cup of coffee.'
There was precisely one chair in my room - so I sat in that. Four guys sat on the edge of my bed - and one sat on the floor at my feet. When he spoke it was with a Yorkshire accent that I had rarely heard this far from my home in Halifax. 'Eeh lad, that's a right grand accent,' I said - not quite 'Nelly, I am Heathcliff' (Wuthering Heights) or Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. (Romeo and Juliet) or "You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.” (Gone With The WInd) , or "In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." (Pride and Prejudice) or even 'Reader I married him' (Jane Eyre) but great oaks from little acorns grow - or some such.
We didn't actually become 'boyfriend and girlfriend' until the New Year, 3 months later but he went home for Christmas and told his parents that he'd met the girl he was going to marry. It took him a little while longer to tell me! (I always wondered why his mother gave me so rather strange looks when I first set foot in his home - she knew - I didn't!)
As a small PS to this - in that original gang who came in out of the rain that October night, there was one other, Andy, who became a special friend to both of us. We were often all 3 together - so much so that when the Babe Magnet and I finally got engaged properly one person actually asked which one I was engaged to. My answer was 'The right one'
It still is.
Forty years of marriage - and I'm still looking forward to more. Love you Steve.
Here's The Babe Magnet:
When I first met the future Kate Walker it was the hair that did it. She was sitting in her chair in a flat the size of a Wendy house in Chalybeate Street, Aberystwyth. Yes, the auburn hair - and the red notebook of her own poems- set me afire, but I was too shy to say much. I nearly lost her to someone else for being so shy! This little scene was on a bleak Sunday in October 1970. I was with the gang of lost little chaps from my digs who were in need of some company - and some wisdom from a seasoned student as it turned out.
There was Kate (Cathy) in her den. Through my eyes
she seemed like the epitome of the sophisticated type who knew the ropes of
being a successful student in alien Wales. It was the era of Plaid Cymru
militancy and of sit-ins by Welsh students demanding that their history be
taught 'through the medium' - that was not by paranormal means, but in
Welsh.
So, this dreamy, opinionated and very innocent
student from Leeds, adrift in Welsh Wales, walked up the stairs, said hello to
Cathy and accepted coffee. We all sat on the floor and listened as she
spoke. She's been doing that ever since, but always interestingly, and most
recently, she has been spouting a lot - in Wales again!! We seem fated to be
Anglo-Welsh.
It's been a wonderful 40 years. There has never
been boredom - lots of rows and shouting - but never boredom. Oh yes, and we
wrote a few words as well!
Giveaway: Well, if people can bear yet another book
of mine featuring prisons, I can offer my latest - Jane Austen's
Aunt Behind Bars - a collection of biographical pieces on writers from
Defoe to Wilde who were detained at His/Her Majesty's pleasure.
My question: Do husbands wearing bad/cheap/
ill-fitting suits (see the photo for the 14th!) generally turn out to be the best partners in romance?
