"Blow me a kiss from across the room"


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A scene from a comedy drama brought back a memory. We were spending our anniversary at a hotel, when the entertainer announced that a couple were celebrating their silver-wedding; be proceeded to sing a romantic ballad aimed specifically at them, before asking everyone to join in a toast to the happy couple. Emma look at me and said, “Don’t even think about it! I’d die of shame.” Ostentatious romantic gestures aren’t her thing then. But being a hay-fever sufferer, I can’t buy her flowers; she doesn’t share my passion for chocolates; she doesn’t wear expensive gemstones (preferring cheap costume jewellery as befits our station); she doesn’t like champagne. So I’m almost out of options in that department. Yet we’ve somehow managed to keep the magic in our relationship. I asked Emma where I was placed in the romantic husband stakes. A non-runner, I thought. “But you’re always telling me you love me,” she replied emphatically. It’s obviously the little things that count (no innuendo intended).

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