It's Paul's Mum and Dad's 40th wedding anniversary on Sunday, so we're heading down to Kent this weekend. By the time we have our ruby anniversary, we'll be 75. Hopefully the kids will be out of the house by then.
So strange how in one generation the norm goes from getting hitched right out of school (my parents were 19 and 21 when they got married) to delaying marriage until our 30s. Personally, I'm elated that I didn't get married young and I've only just started feeling like I've accomplished something significant in my life. I'm happy with my relationship, my job (most days), we've got a lovely house, a fantastic dog, two cars, and we've done quite a lot of travelling. Most importantly (I do realise that most things on that list are material), I simply feel happy; with myself and with my life. In my 20s, there's no way I would have said that. I can't even imagine getting married at 19 and having a baby before my 20th birthday. At 20, I could barely keep a houseplant alive. In fact, I killed two pet turtles (not on purpose, don't get all uppity) at 21. At 35, I'm pretty sure my plants and pet are safe from harm.
Oh, and before I go, I apologise for this weekend's weather in advance. It will pour rain on Sunday because we're going to have a BBQ. Sorry 'bout that.