Sixteen Years

We just celebrated our 16th wedding anniversary and so we decided to go up to London and see the new production of Fiddler on the Roof. Well, I decided that we should do that and AP said, “OK”.

We drove to the train station and parked up. Neither of us had the coins to put into the parking meter and so I asked if AP wanted me to pay on an iPhone app and, apparently he said, “OK, I’ll pay.” So he jumped out of the car and began paying for the parking via his iPhone and I sat in the car, tapping out a payment for parking on my iPhone.

Once we discovered that we had simultaneously paid for the car park, the long walk to the train station was spent by each of us incriminating the other for not listening or paying attention. By the time we boarded the train our – ahem – discussion was so absurd that we both started laughing. AP said, “you should write about this,” to which I said, “Ohhhhh. I’m going to write about this. I will write about it and you aren’t going to be the hero of the story.”

During the train journey, I had a niggling concern because I bought the tickets to the show and I opted for the cheapest seats which were in the balcony. I just hoped that the seats weren’t too high and far away to get a good view of the stage.

Never mind.

Still, we enjoyed the show, which was excellent. AP was very good natured about sitting in the nose bleed section, which was stuffy and hot, and he even bought me a pepsi-cola at intermission, for which he paid a handsome price, let-me-tell-you. Not once did he say, “why in the hell did you choose these terrible seats?” Nor did he complain that we had to lean forward to see the entire stage. He just enjoyed the show and held my hand and thanked me for making the arrangements.

And so you see, friends, AP is the hero of this story. I’m very lucky, indeed.