What's all this then?

I tweet too much. So I needed somewhere else to start storing all the words. This is it. Think of it as the external hard drive for my thoughts.

I don't have an obesssion, a dream, a fixation or a hook, so don't be expecting a focus here. It's like great big lumps of my twitterings. You may see teaching stuff, rants, maternal anxiety and occasional sojourns away from reality.

Anyway, I like a nice chat so we should talk. By we, I of course mean me...

Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Can I get away with a slushy one yet?

I don’t believe in Soulmates. Or love at first sight. Or fate guiding you towards The One.

Imagine my annoyance then to find my time with MrBird, my husband of 9 1/2 years, falling into all those categories. I am not into romantic destinies and frankly I find the circumstances around our meeting highly irritating.

We met in a dingy nightclub that neither of us had ever been to before. Both of us were miles from home, and neither of us particularly in the mood for finding anyone. But I went from “I’m never trusting a man as long as I live” to “Here’s my number” in the space of a couple of g&t’s. We met for lunch the next day, even though he was supposed to be driving all his mates to a Wedding. That was pretty much it, done and dusted. In the battle of logic v nonsense, score one point to Cupid.

I fought it, mind. I took myself off to Scotland straight afterwards and didn’t come back for ages. I told myself this couldn’t possibly be right… after all he was a Suit. And he lived in Surrey. With his Mum. Then I saw the photos from his Metal Band days (I’m a sucker for long haired muso boys) and learned that he’d just moved home temporarily after the death of his Dad. Yeah, whatever, Cupid.

It turned out there were lots of times when we could have met. He studied physics at the same Uni at the same time as my friend, he was there when I visited the physics geeks, I mean dudes. When I was at Uni, his best friend managed the Pub that I often frequented. And so on. I’m not a fan of co-incidence but you can give Fate a point if you like.

He is not my soulmate though. I won’t have that. We share very few interests. He has never read Douglas Adams, and I have no clue about Linux. However a long, long time ago a friend pointed out, in a rare moment of clarity, that a shared love of Monty Python really isn’t enough to base a lifetime on. She was right. Thank goodness I realised that before Mr Bird happened into my life.

During my Wedding Speech (of course I made a speech, would I miss that chance to talk at people?) I said he was everything I never knew I wanted. Nine years have taught me just how true that is. It comes down to the bedrock of love. He is the one person I wanted to see when I came round from an anaesthetic. When his much loved uncle died, I had to be the one he heard it from. He was the only person I could tolerate during labour. If I am strong it’s only because when I can’t be any more, I know he’ll pick up where I left off.

We’re not perfect. He makes me grit my teeth. I make him sigh.  But I’ll take the fact that he winds the kids up before bedtime, because if they ever can’t run to me I want them to run to him. When I look at myself and see disastrous, from somewhere he finds desirable. We complement each other even when we forget to compliment each other. We’re totally different except where it counts.

My flamingo photo on this blog and on twitter is his. He took it on our honeymoon.

He is the pictures to my words. But not my bloody soulmate.


  1. You deny your bloody romantic leanings, but alas, it is clear my dear, that the bird doth singeth the tune of love... I do the same, take it to my grave, but the soppy bits of me want to believe in the ONE... mostly as I don't have my MrBird : ) xx

  2. Well, maybe. Possibly. But don't tell anyone. I'll deny everything... x

  3. I can empathise with all this... we are the lucky ones xx

  4. Some lessons are learned hard but worth it. I *am* lucky. but I'll deny that too.... x

  5. This is so beautiful, all I can suggest is that you encourage the insomnia thing (coffee, fizzy drinks etc) and spend your nights writing the great twenty-first century love novel (but not with Linux in the title)


  6. Well! Thank you so much. Not Love in the age of Linux then? I'm off to buy pepsi...


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