Yesterday by the day, and today by the date, marks one whole year since The Boy proposed, and brings us to single figures in our weekly countdown to the wedding.
To celebrate, we decided to go back to Canterbury, to the same hotel where The Boy proposed (you can read more about that here), and I christened the event our “Engagiversary”, because everything is more fun when you name it. Especially if that name is too separate words smooshed together.
Unfortunately, a few days before our visit, the hotel (The House of Agnes, a gorgeous, old building that I am completely and utterly in love with) had a bit of a water tank incident, resulting in our room being out of action. They got in touch with The Boy, and very kindly offered to put us in an alternative room this weekend, and have us back for a return visit once everything is fixed. They’re lovely.
So, off we headed down the M11, where we bickered good-naturedly about each other’s taste in music, and not so good-naturedly about the wedding. For those of you interested, it went a little something like this:
We eventually arrived (still friends, just about), and when we were shown to our room, the team had left us a card and Ferrero Rocher to say happy anniversary (see – lovely), and any lingering disappointment I had about staying in one of the modern rooms (they’re still gorgeous, but you know me – I love wonky ceilings and beams) disappeared.
We headed off to visit Canterbury’s Christmas market, where we bought a very exciting prop for the wedding (I’m not allowed to say any more than that – spoilers!), before returning to the room, showering and deciding where to go for dinner. We hadn’t booked ahead (we’re horribly indecisive and couldn’t decide what sort of food we wanted), so I rang around and managed to get us a table at a local Indian restaurant.
We ate – a lot (as I’ve said before, I have no time for wedding diet nonsense, so you – yes you, you know who you are – can stop giving me that look) – and while we had plans to visit the hotel bar and admire the Christmas tree, we decided to go and have a lie down first. Which ended up being a much longer lie down than expected, culminating in us watching TV while The Boy moaned about how full he was.
Except, unfortunately, it turned out to be food poisoning rather than overindulgence, and he was up for most of the night being very, very sick. Which meant I was up for most of the night, worrying that he was about to expire. This morning, he had weirdly high spots of colour on his cheeks, then suddenly went an odd, greyish colour – a colour which looks quite nice on our dining room walls, but not so much on a person.
I was mentally calculating how quickly I could get to the hospital, if I still remembered the way, and whether it would be a wasted exercise if they’d already shut down the A&E department at Canterbury. Luckily, The Boy began to look a bit brighter. At least, he did until he started moving, when he quickly collapsed back onto the bed and started murmuring about how sorry he was and that he hoped I’d remember him fondly (so, you know, at least he’d kept his sense of humour).
Much earlier than expected, we packed up the room and got in the car, where I drove much faster than I should have done (sorry Mum) and kept periodically checking that The Boy was still breathing.
On a related note, I’m not sure there’s anything more awkward than having to ask at reception for black bags so your fiance has something to vomit into on the way home.
Except maybe walking into the local Sainsbury’s to buy water, paracetemol and coke (that you then have to flatten in the bathroom sink – apparently it’s very good for settling stomachs), and because of the way you dress, everyone in there thinks you’re doing the walk of shame (in case any of you are reading this, no I wasn’t, I dress like this all the time. And that includes trips to the supermarket).
All in all, not the way I expected to celebrate our engagiversary, but most of it was lovely, and even the bits that weren’t – well. Having been together for nearly six years, living together for two, and already owning a cat (and a car) together, there aren’t really too many firsts left for us now. So, you know. Let’s chalk it up to experience.
He’s now in bed, with the cat curled up next to him, while I’m about to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol on my own, which isn’t exactly how I pictured this evening.
But, things don’t always go to plan, even when you really, really want them to, and I would rather have had this weekend with The Boy, than have been anywhere else without him (yes, even Disneyland. Yes, even Disneyland Dapper Day).
Which I think bodes pretty well.