Returning to the Scene of the Crime...

Sixteen years ago, to the date, I first met Mr G.  And give or take a year and a half that we had a long distance weekend-only relationship, we've been inseparable since.  It truly is 'the relationship that probably should never have been'.  On paper, you could look at it two ways.  One - this is never going to work, or my favourite and my choice; two - the odds were so stacked against you even meeting, that fate must have a hand in it.  The stars truly aligned for this one.  It's an easy story to tell, but not so easy to put on paper.  You know how you see those old couples who've been together for seventy years being interviewed, telling their love story, and they each chip in with their little piece, finishing each other's sentences?   It's one of those. Don't think either of us will see seventy years together though, sadly...

I told him at the outset.  There are four words that if you mention them to me, I'll dump you, on the spot. Love.  Marriage.  Engagement.  Babies.  Within four weeks, he had me head over heels in love with him.  I love you, I said.  Within 16 weeks, he got down on one knee with a diamond ring and he asked me to marry him.  Yes, I said.  Within 11 months I was expecting our first child, which we sadly lost.  Within 32 months, I was his bride.  His pregnant bride.  No, it wasn't a shotgun wedding.  I wasn't looking for 'happy ever after' with him, I wasn't looking for anything at that point in my life.  It just goes to show that when it's right, it's right.  It happens when it happens.  You either realise and grab it, even if the time isn't right, or you let it go and lose out.  No brainer.  I grabbed on with both hands, and it is the best decision I've ever made.  Trust me, I've made some bloody stupid ones.

He hasn't had the best of luck health wise these last seven years, and as a couple our lives just seem to lurch from one disaster, crisis, loss and upset to another.  But we're a team, one of us is always stronger than the other when needed, and no matter what, whether it's his deadpan, dry sense of humour, or my sarcastic wit (lowest form?  I think not!) a laugh is never too far away.  He's the love of my life, my best friend, my rock, the butt of my blog post jokes, the pain in my backside, the father of my children and my biggest cheerleader.  He has the patience of a saint, with me and me alone.  He puts up with my little autistic quirks and obsessions and finds them endearing (I think?  I hope?).   I salute you, Mr G.  You deserve a medal. Possibly two.  But at least one.  

So, hopefully sick buckets are now full.   Onto the important part.  Food.  

Wanting to mark our 'anniversary' with a romantic meal, also trying somewhere new locally, I scoped out TripAdvisor and found somewhere new in Bangor that looked reasonably priced and had great reviews.  Mr G vetoed that.  He wanted to take me somewhere.  I wheedled it out of him, eventually.  It was a surprise.  I don't like surprises.   He wanted us to go to the place we had our first meal together, the first whole weekend we spent together as a couple, at The Breeze Hill, in Benllech.  So, that's where we went for lunch. Returning to the scene of the crime.  Recalling that particular day, I'd opted for the gammon and he'd chosen the rump steak.  In those days they were a sight to be seen. At least an inch thick, and the size of a house.  You didn't know whether to eat it or ride it and you definitely needed guts of steel to finish one. People used to wrap half up in a napkin to take home.  Mr G was so nervous on our date that he couldn't eat.  So, I ate my gammon then his steak.   Atta girl!

Come to think of it, I paid for that bloody meal too...

As we entered I commented that I had no idea what the prices were like now, and we'd order a coke, slyly peruse the prices, and if too much we'd go and get fish and chips and eat them on the beach.   As Mr G got the drinks, I scanned the menu.  A touch pricier than a lot of places, most things two or three quid dearer than the 'norm' but not off the scale.  A full, varied menu, with a massive specials list too.  In keeping with my 'no cod, steak pie or gammon' vow, I opted for the Chicken, Ham and Leek pie with chips and vegetables and Mr G chose Steak and Kidney pie with chips and veg.

Both really nice pies, although we are wandering into dodgy territory here with a lot of people.  I saw a rant on one foodie website that a puff pastry lid doth not a pie make?   I suppose it is more of a stew with a lid on, but both were really nice, homemade, the meat was fall apart tender.   Worth the extra couple of quid? Yes, if you're paying eight quid for a frozen, catering company bought one, elsewhere.  Vegetables were cooked to perfection, food was boiling hot, and the waitress was so lovely.  Toilets were clean and smelled nice.  Big thumbs up for The Breeze Hill.  

After finishing our meal, Mr G asked if I fancied a ride drive and a walk.  Benllech or carry on to Moelfre.  I told him to choose.  So we went on to Moelfre, there's a little hippyish shop there, he said it would be nice to look around there without having a nervous breakdown that one of the kids would smash something expensive.   

As we walked up, Mr G mentioned that his old boss lived next door to the shop.  I hadn't seen Jim for at least ten years, and as we passed he was stood in the window.  He waved and invited us in for a coffee. We had a quick catch up before we had to leave to get home for the children.  I asked him what the food was like in the local pub and it had the thumbs up from Jim, so there's another place on my 'lunch list'.  All in all another lovely afternoon with my favourite person in the world.   Happy 'Meeting Anniversary' Mr G!  Love you to the moon and back x