That’s more than a peck on the cheek

AS predicted, Valentine’s Day passed without incident or injury, which was nice.

We didn’t end up at the pub gazing limpidly at one another, not least because our local taverna doesn’t open on Mondays.

Instead Small But Fierce of Ipswich visited a well-known store and obtained a three-courses-with-wine meal deal (other meal deals are available) and we chomped our way through a pleasant evening at home.

We were quietly affectionate, as is our wont, unlike the the Thai couple who in a very public display, somehow, to bust the world record for kissing by locking lips for a frankly extraordinary 46 hours, 24 minutes and nine seconds. Amazing.

For this feat of endurance – they were not allowed to part lips for even a nano-second – they received a ring and �2,000.


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That isn’t a great deal, especially when you see how spent the poor husband looks. Wife is all chipper and well up for another bash – he looks like the weight of that big certificate might just be too much for him. The weaker sex, eh?

We did manage to get out last week, a very pleasant evening of excellent food and laughter at the monthly comedy night at Jimmy’s Farm (other farms are available).

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It is a measure of the spreading fame of SBF that the invitation to this little jolly came addressed to me and “SBF”. It transpired that the issuer of the invitation couldn’t actually remember SBF’s real name but the curly one was still oddly pleased to receive an offer of sustenance and entertainment under her nom de plume.

And we had a hoot. This isn’t the place for a review but we were lavishly fed and looked after and had a good chortle at the acts. We might even see you there next month.

The next Big Thing heading our way is the official, and to be accurate only, birthday of SBF.

I would never divulge how many summers she has seen; that would be rude. I merely take comfort in the fact that it will always be one more than me, something she finds curiously irksome.

She has it all planned already. We are going away to a hotel, the Ginger Ninja will join us, we will be going shopping and she will be having those chickens we’ve been talking about for three years.

I like a woman who knows her own mind. It cuts out any margin for error and removes the need for any of those oblique testing questions like “Have you ever thought about zorbing?” or “What size head are you?” I suspect that Thai chappie would probably agree.

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