Five years

Five years ago, one Friday, I had the day off, because I'd worked the Sunday before. I spent the day relaxing at home, and baking an amazing chocolate pudding for a dinner party I was going to the next day.

Just as I was washing up, I got a text message from a friend asking me if I was coming out to the pub. My original plans for that evening had fallen through, and the day before, she suggested I joined her and her colleagues for their after-work drinks.

I wasn't sure if I could be bothered, and texted back to ask if there was any talent.

She replied, "No, but there's good craic. You should come."

So I brushed my hair, changed into a top that didn't have chocolate down the front, slicked on a bit of eyeliner so I looked vaguely awake and spritzed some perfume, and jumped into a taxi across town, hoping for a bit of banter, a couple of drinks and a laugh.


It was a good crowd, and a good night. And as I was chatting to one of my friend's colleagues, I noticed that I rather disagreed with her about the talent. Over the other end of the group, I saw someone rather nice. Tall, dark and handsome. He saw me. One of his eyebrows shot up, and we both went back to our conversations.

I remember thinking, "He's cute. Shame, though, because he's talking to that bloke everybody says is a wanker. He probably is too."

But after a few moments, he came up to me and uttered the immortal opening line: "Are you Irish too?" (The friend was Irish, not the annoying type who thought it was cool to say "craic" five years ago.)

I laughed, said in my very English voice, "You obviously haven't heard me talk yet", and we got talking. Turned out he wasn't a wanker.

We talked for an hour or so, about nothing, about everything. At one stage he disappeared. I remember being surprised, thought he wouldn't have gone without saying goodbye. But when he turned up beside me five minutes later, I got a bit more confident. I later learnt that the five minutes had been spent hiding in the gents, plucking up courage to ask me out.

And when the friend and I decided to leave, he did ask me for my number. His hands were shaking slightly, so I offered to put it into his phone for him. I just managed not to dance out of the pub.

The next day he texted and asked me out. And the day after, we met for a coffee, and stayed out for five hours talking.

Three years later, we got married.

Two years on, I'm still pinching myself.