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23 years ago, when I was 24, I married my best friend.
Looking back I am astounded at how young
we were, how confident we were that we knew everything,
how green, how callow, how terribly, terribly naive.
This weekend we celebrated our wedding anniversary with a weekend
away in Dumfries and Galloway - a child free weekend as Zoë
came home to look after Katie and taxi her about.
It was a weekend of grandeur, laziness, long baths, and sunny walks.
I was grateful that I am married to a man who will happily trail after
me for hours in plant nurseries as I ponder over choosing between
seemingly identical plants.
Euan was grateful that he is married to a woman who appreciates
the importance of watching rugby on an i-pad on a holiday weekend
We were both grateful that, by some fluke, we managed to make a
really brilliant decision all those years ago.
When we got home the girls had made us the album of photos that
is in the top photo.
There in that thoughtfulness is another reason to be grateful for
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