Himself and myself have marked our 15 years of marriage with the best bed ever!
We are 15 years married this week. I know! Who'd have thought when we walked down the aisle a decade and a half ago that we'd last longer than the honeymoon?!
I don't think I thought past the Honeymoon to be honest-the actual reality of living with someone and being their partner for the rest of my life hadn't really occurred to me.
Every time the subject comes up, Himself has taken to telling people that if he had committed murder he'd be out by now. He thinks it's hilarious. My father on the other hand took slight offence and said, "You knew what she was like when you married her!" Thanks Dad. Nothing like a bit of family loyalty.
The traditional gift for your fifteenth wedding anniversary is crystal. Obviously I wanted a Waterford chandelier but was told I couldn't have one. I settled on a coat from Zara instead and bought him a shirt. Not very romantic it has to be said but after fifteen years of marriage, romance is pretty thin on the ground.
Meanwhile we did splash out on a new mattress to mark the occasion. The sagginess of the old one was proving too much for Himself's bad back so we invested (and I MEAN invested! Have you seen the price of mattresses lately?) in a state of the art memory foam job.
All four of us traipsed around furniture shops, ignoring the Don't Sit On the Bed signs and lepping on anything that looked remotely comfortable. We lay down, we tossed and turned, we bounced until finally we found one that we all liked.
It arrived in time for the anniversary and all I can say is-Oh My God! It's like sleeping on a cloud and the best anniversary present I've ever gotten. It's so deep that I have to climb up on it to get in and when I sit on the side my legs dangle at least a foot and a half from the floor.
With the exception of one little hitch where no one told me you're not supposed to use an electric blanket and we woke in the middle of the night thinking our backsides were on fire, I have never slept better in my life.
The problem is I don't particularly want to share it with anyone. I've been sneaking off when the rest of them are watching the rugby, climbing into bed, lighting my scented candles and fluffing up my pillows before quietly settling down to read my book.
Then my husband of fifteen years comes in, throws his clothes on the floor, gets into bed, tosses the duvet and turns on the telly, disturbing my peace and serenity.
If we last another 15 we may have to look at separate bedrooms. I get to keep the mattress though!