I’m sorry that I’ve been ignoring you lately. It hasn’t been anything personal. Just, you know, been stupidly busy.
I could tell you how many hours I’ve worked this week, but that would be boring so I won’t.
We went to a gig on Thursday. It was absolutely brilliant – one of the very best ‘non-A List’ gigs I have ever been to.
There might be a review forthcoming, over at the podcast website, I’ll link to it when it happens.
Back to the now.
We are going out for a meal tonight.
And tomorrow we are going up to the wilds of the Herefordshire/Worcestershire/Shropshire borders to visit Sophie’s parents.
It’s her mum’s birthday.
She’ll be 25.
No, I don’t know either. Must be some kind of time travel thing.
It will also be our wedding anniversary.
It seems as though it has just been a few weeks since we all congregated in Wales on that uncharacteristically cloudless and sunny January day.
I wish I could adequately describe how I feel about Sophie. I wish I could begin to tell her what she means to me.
But it is beyond my ability.
To use the cliché, Sophie is everything to me; as a wife, a friend and a lover she is as much a part of my life as I am.
Sophie is always supportive, no matter where my thinking has tried to lead me.
Everything I’ve tried and succeeded, everything I’ve tried and failed; Sophie has always been encouraging, never been scornful or dismissive.
As the wife of an equestrian she’s got up at hideously early O’clock and travelled all over this part of the country in my lorry with me and my horse. She’s been groom, assistant and nerve-calmer.
As the wife of a writer she’s been beyond helpful; been encouraging in both my character developments and plot devices, and always been ready to lend a hand to iron out clunkier dialogue segments.
As the wife of a muso she’s always been up for gigs, festivals and never said ‘no’ to spending weekends in a tent in the pouring rain. We’ve staggered home almost dead from tiredness, senses dulled, ears ringing, feeling totally washed-out and emotionally overloaded and Sophie’s always been as enthusiastic about everything as me.
As the wife of a guy with a childish sense of humour that stopped developing somewhere around the age of 12, we are almost joined at the hip. We howl with laughter at the same stupid things, we bawl our eyes out at the cinema at the same trash. Apart from vampire films, obv.
So, as I was saying, we’re going out tonight.
And I shall be in the company of the most gorgeous girl in the country.