My dad fell in love with the girl next door. The girl next door who would one day become my mum.
I never tire of hearing how they first met, and I often drive past the hairdressers my mother worked in and the street they used to live in and I picture them, many years ago, when I was merely a twinkle in their eye.
My father was working on cruise ships as a musician when he met my mother. At the time he was based in the UK, awaiting another trip travelling the seas and playing his saxophone. They dated and set a wedding date, and my father sold his brand new sports car for a deposit on their first home together. He then searched for a 9 to 5 ‘sensible’ job so he wouldn’t be travelling the world and be absent for long periods of time. That’s love for you. And 2 years later, on their wedding anniversary, along came me.
I never tire of hearing stories of their childhood either, before fate and geography brought them together. “It wasn’t like this when we were young,” I frequently here them say. My mum often tells me how she would spend the night dancing in the building which is now a bingo hall and walk home, on her own, clutching her shoes as her feet would be sore and aching from all that spinning around. “There wasn’t the high crime rate then, a girl would feel perfectly safe walking home on her own.” I’m also constantly reminded that there was no television, telephone or computer in my parents family homes. In fact, when I was born the telephone was still a rare thing in many households and my parents had to send a telegram to most of their friends, to inform them of my arrival. Can you imagine not being able to communicate by telephone?! I never leave the house without my mobile, and I take it for granted that everyone I know owns a mobile and I can call them or text them and almost immediately be in contact with them.
My fathers childhood was very different from mine, and very different from my mothers. There is a fourteen year age difference between my parents, and my father lived through the second world war, where he was evacuated out of London and into the country side. To be separated from your parents, and your home, at such a young age is something I can not imagine either. My dad often refers to money as shillings and reminds me how food was rationed during the war. If I was to travel back in time and explain to a shop keeper the price of food these days, they would probably fall off their chair in astonishment, that’s if they were sitting down, if they were standing they may have fainted from the shock. Can you imagine trying to explain blogging to a shop keeper during the second world war?! They would probably think I was barmy and to communicate with people from all over the world at the touch of a button was unthinkable. Rather like man walking on the moon!
I can’t help wondering how different things will be for my children - fingers and arms crossed that I will have my own family one day. Technology is progressing constantly. Will we have cars that fly? Dinners that cook themselves? Who knows hey! Nothing would surprise me though.
In the mean time, I’m grateful for the progress and I'm grateful that technology allows me to blog. I’m also grateful for the three course meal I shared with my parents last week, on my 35th birthday, which was also my parents 37th wedding anniversary.
I think they deserve a medal for sticking together for 37 years. An enormous gold one, with the following words engraved: 'It must be love.' Why else would you do it?!
Pictures of the day:
The anniversary/birthday restaurant.