What weekends are meant to be...

The sun was shining, the air warm – very much like the day one year ago that Husband and I tied the knot. Delightful – an expression I really haven’t used much lately (can’t claim kudos for the picture, but it is what the sky has looked like lately).

Spent Saturday with a colleague and friend and her 4 year old daughter. We work at opposite ends of the building to each other so we don’t often get a chance to chat so it was nice to get some proper time together. Her daughter is amazing – so pretty, so intelligent and precocious. I want one! Can I steal hers? We had a couple of hours at home playing with the cats and having soup. Then we went to a local bird garden to look at peacocks. Then it was back home for millionaire shortbread and Mummy and me to bitch about work – and CBeebies to entertain daughter. The time gave Husband a chance to recover from Glasgow without seeming like a grump – and me some much needed social contact.

Out actually anniversary day was Sunday. I’d popped into town before picking friend and daughter up – so I got a card, a small toy dragon (well why not?) and a bottle of Timothy Taylor’s “Landlord” beer. Husband had managed to arrange some pain au chocolat, a card and a little prezzie for me so we had breakfast in bed. We used to do Sunday mornings in bed quite often in the past – I don’t quite know why we stopped. It was nice to reinvigorate one of our old traditions and have a cuddle and ponder the fact that we’ve made it a year as a married couple.

The weather was glorious so we headed out into the Cotswolds for a drive – and to purchase a revolving shoe rack from the Cotswold Company in Bourton on the Water (how romantic I am). We also revived another old tradition on the way back by getting lost. Our best times out and about in our old stomping ground of North Yorkshire were when we (either deliberately or accidentally) turned off the beaten track and tried to find our way around on the back lanes. We ended up coming into home from the North East and through a village we had only been through once. We missed the turn for home and were looking for somewhere to turn around when I spotted the biggest cat you’ve ever seen perched on a wall. I made Husband let me out the car and I went to try and pat it. It ran away, came back and ran away again. At which point I realised the cat’s owner was giving me funny looks from the driveway. Luckily, he was very friendly and didn’t try to accuse me of stealing his cat. He told me all about Brufus (I think) the Maine Coon – as we peered at him through a conifer. He was twice the size of our cats, but apparently a total wuss. He was a lovely honey colour like this one I’ve found on the internet.

Anyway, once Husband eventually dragged me away from the cat we went home, had casserole and watch the end of Pirates of the Caribbean II. All in all, a lovely weekend.