Ian and I were students when we got married, it was a ‘budget’ wedding. Students in England in our day were pretty down at heel, holes in our jeans were not a fashion statement. We did the catering ourselves with a little help from our friends, the village hall was £20 for the day and my hat and dress were in a sale, price £15. We got married on the Saturday but we had to be at college on the Monday morning so we didn’t have a Honeymoon even if our budget could have run to that.
6.00am Monday we were up and dressed to travel the 16 miles into the city. Before we married I had my routine, polished my shoes, ironed my jeans, (I can hear your surprised intake of breath, they had to have razor creases), check which books I needed for which class the night before; then porridge, toast and marmalade and coffee for breakfast and pack a sandwich for lunch in the morning, to get ready and get to college on time.
At 7.45am I grabbed my backpack and assuming Ian was right behind me I strode across the backyard to my very old, very rusty, and rickety car, threw my backpack onto the rear seats and climbed behind the wheel, putting the key in the ignition. To my surprise Ian wasn’t there climbing into the passenger seat beside me, I had been sure he was as ready as I was. Puzzled I looked through the open yard gate to the back door to our cottage but there was no sign of Ian.
I waited for him to join me totally unaware as to why he was delaying our departure, (did you catch the ‘tone’ of the end of the last sentence?). I had my schedule. I anticipated his immediate presence. I waited. After a couple of minutes, I began to question in my mind, what is he doing? I waited. I had my schedule. “Come on, come on!” I muttered to myself. My patience was beginning to melt away and irritation was simmering nicely. I had my schedule. I continued waiting, and very soon I was drumming a tattoo with my fingers on the steering wheel, my irritation now burning quite fiercely.
I waited, now tightly grasping the steering wheel my knuckles showing white. I was complaining under my breath and my temper was volcanic, which could, at its height, erupt with molten rage scalding everything in its path. He was keeping me waiting, I’ve got my schedule! I didn’t quite think it but somewhere in the back of my mind was lurking, “How dare he keep me waiting?”
I waited, and finally my temper boiled over, I wanted to sound my horn, get out of the car and drag him out of the house. It’s a wonder the windows didn’t mist up with the steam that was, metaphorically, coming out of my ears.
Happily, common sense kicked in, or perhaps God tapped me on the shoulder, and I was shocked at my thoughts and behaviour. It dawned upon me that we had been married less than 48 hours and I was in a furious temper and might possibly have an argument with my new husband and best friend. I wasn’t single any more. It wasn’t all about me anymore. It had to be all about us. I took a deep breath and tried to damp down my irritation, which was fighting a rear-guard battle with my common sense. The sky was blue, the birds were chirping, the early morning sun made everything crisp and clear and the trees were just beginning to take on some autumn colours. Around my conflagration all was calm. This was a brand-new world for me, it would take some getting used to.
When Ian finally climbed into the passenger seat I made myself speak gently and quietly, no tension, to ask why he had been so long. He said he was checking the windows were closed and locked. I should have been glad that he was so safety conscious but it didn’t assuage my frustration.
I continued to suppress my lingering irritation, started the car and drove to college, possibly a little quieter than usual. We enjoyed the landscape and the freshness of the early morning and of course my temper disappeared like smoke in a wind. We had a great day, studying; we are still great believers in life-long learning, so college was always a joy, the congratulations of friends, even the college principal, a late wedding gift, and lots of laughs over coffee in the canteen with class mates and when we drove home in the evening my irritation was completely forgotten.
When we got home I jumped out of the car, my door keys in my hand, my backpack on my shoulder and headed into the cottage. Ian was making a more leisurely progress. As I opened the door all looked as it should be, I dropped my bag on a chair and was going to put the kettle on but then I noticed, tucked under the base of the canary’s cage, a folded piece of paper. I had my routine, so I knew that it wasn’t there in the morning? I bent to pick it up. Ian was still slowly crossing the yard.
To my surprise the paper was a note, addressed to me. I opened it,
My darling Angela,
thank you for being my wife, at the start of our life together I want you to know I will always love you.
Ian
I was moved, and my eyes filled with tears, this was the lovely surprise that Ian was preparing that had kept me waiting. I remembered my morning anger and was ashamed but also overwhelmed with relief.
Can you imagine what devastation my anger would have caused? It could have all been so different. This wonderful, loving, romantic moment would have been instead one of guilt and regret. It would have changed our whole day, it could have changed our whole relationship. Ian came into the kitchen his eyes full of laughter unaware of my near miss. I never told him about it for many years, it was a salutary lesson, which I never forgot. We still have that note and of course Ian still makes those loving, romantic, often funny surprises fourty six years later