Please forgive my indulgence but I am compelled to share my celebration of our anniversary. Both the date we met 2nd April and our wedding date 7th April.  No not that soon! A few years past between the dates. It may be corny and it may be romantic but I am proud to share my joy at finding Brigitte and my ever deepening appreciation and love for her.

The pink champers.

The pink champers.

It is our tradition to share a bottle of Rosé champagne on this day. Our first was on our wedding day and we’ve sought out a new one to mark each year since. They are lined up on high shelf in the kitchen.

An easy aid-moiré for me, who has trouble with numbers or knowing what date it is or what year.

This year we marked out meeting date by going out for drinks and dinner at a local hostelry. 

Marking our first meeting.

Marking our first meeting.

This picture was taken by the waitress who was a bit bemused by seeing oldies celebrating and showing their love for each other. I do like to confound peoples expectations of what male behaviour should be.  The young waitress was obviously stunned but pleased by my request and my explaining what we were celebrating. I was much more open and enthusiastic than she’d have been used to. She liked it when she got over the surprise. The aaah aint it sweet factor.

Starters and laughs.

Starters and laughs.

Every year I cook B a special meal on the 7th.

This year it was Serrano ham and melon balls soaked in orange juice.

The main event.

The main event.

The main was escalope of veal with sage and ham in butter. Served with wild mushrooms in a mascarpone and sherry sauce, with fondant potato’s. After was strawberries marinated in balsamic and pepper on a mascarpone pavlova.

It was wonderful. Next day we had a lazy Sunday only slightly hung over. That day was marked by Brigitte suddenly exclaiming: “Bloody fool! I got the dates wrong. I was so sure it was Saturday but today is the seventh.”

Like I said, I rarely know what date it is. I’d never have known.

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