Last year

Last year my husband was sixty. I’d got him some wonderful presents to celebrate it and arranged for us to go to the Deep Sleep in the North Wales Snowdonia district for the weekend.

The Deep Sleep is a trek into an old slate mine, where, at the bottom, they have erected cabins for people to sleep in. I knew that he’d like it.

Sadly, he was rather traumatised by my crazy need to become a eunuch and the dark kinks that I’d come out only two months or so previous.

He refused to go.

This year

This time, we sat and I gave him his gifts and bathed in the sheer joy of giving. It was lovely. I think he felt loved.

For lunch, we went for a carvery, where we ate too much. I even had a pudding; an apple and damson crumble – if there’s a fruit pudding on the menu, I will generally weaken and have it because my husband doesn’t like fruit pies or crumbles.

Peaceful

Now we are both feeling a bit sleepy and it’s only 4pm.

He put on the Whitney Houston film “I Wanna Dance With Somebody”. It’s a long film, so I hope I can be forgiven for having a doze halfway through.

A dark memory

There is a scene where Whitney’s mother discovers her in the attic taking drugs and Whitney is led or from the house in handcuffs. I said “what had she done to be in handcuffs?!” That took us both back to a painful episode over a dozen years ago when my husband was taken by the police when he was having an episode because there was no mental health resource.

Apparently, you weren’t supposed to have a crisis after 5pm or on the weekend.

Evening

I hope he’s enjoyed his day.

It was quiet and uncomplicated.