Today marks twenty three years since I stood at the front of a church in front of family and friends, exchanged rings, and signed a legally binding contract.
Marriage is a strange thing really, isn’t it. One of the last vestiges of entanglement between “the church” and “the state” in most countries - mostly to encourage social stability, which reduces the long-term cost of supporting society - hence the various tax-breaks that married couples receive.
I know lots of people that live happily together without getting married, lots of people that are married, lots of people that have been married, and lots of people that have been married more than once. Does our “status” tell us anything about each other? Absolutely not. Does the little we know of each other’s history tell us anything worth knowing? Not really.
We’re all just doing our best really, aren’t we? Putting one foot in front of the other.
I’ve always found it interesting that while some seek the positives in their friends and families lives - both encouraging and championing endeavours and escapades as opportunity arises - others sit in wait for any sign of turbulence, and are quick to judge - although never to anybody’s face.
I tend to find the most judgemental live in the most elaborate glass houses.
I try to take people as I find them. I’m not always good at it - particularly when it comes to anybody crossing paths with those closest to me. I guess my scales are weighed heavily towards those I care about. I’m biased.
My word. How did this become so philosophical?
We’re heading out to the supermarket in a bit - and then the garden centre. We’re single-handedly breeding the fattest squirrels in the local area, and supporting innumerable families of birds. I’m pretty sure our house is marked on the official low-altitude migratory bird resource planning map of Great Britain - a supply depot with a four star “fill your boots” rating - but also two warning cat emojis.
This evening we’re off out for something to eat, then to the cinema to watch “The Empire Strikes Back”. Our local cinema occasionally shows old movies. Somehow we missed “Star Wars”. I definitely want to see “Return of the Jedi” again. My main recollection of seeing it as a child was my pre-teen brother telling the people behind us to shut up - causing them to laugh - and then my Dad turning around and teaching us all some new words.
I wish my Dad had been with us when we went to see the “Shaun the Sheep” movie with the kids. A mum from school was sat in the row behind us, and talked with a friend throughout the entire movie. I learned all about their relationship problems, next year’s holiday, what they thought of their various children’s school teachers, and lots more. I didn’t dare turn around and start a scene, because really - what grown man does that in a kids movie? It was a bit like the Micky Flanagan routine about missing the end of “Thomas the Tank Engine” - you can’t go and ask your friends if they saw it - it’s just not done.