Just Because...

On Friday, a colleague appeared in my little work room at lunch time carrying a large box.
'This arrived for you in Reception,' she said. 'Open it now! I want to see what it is!'
She is very demanding, this colleague.
So I opened the box, and out floated a silver 'n' red balloon with hugs 'n' kisses on it. Attached was a bar of chocolate and a packet of chocolate caramels.
'Oooooh!' said the demanding colleague. 'Is it your birthday?'
'No,' said I.
'Any other anniversary?'
'Nope,' I said.
'Who's it from?'
'My hubbie,' said I.


The demanding colleague looked at me suspiciously.
'What's he done that he needs to apologise for?' she said, sniffing for a spot of gossip and/or scandal.
'Nothing,' I said. 'He sent them just because.'


The demanding colleague didn't seem to get this concept. She pottered off, muttering about having to mention this spontaneous act of loveliness to her own obviously lacking partner.

Another colleague appeared. 'Oooh,' she said. 'Is it your birthday?'
'No,' I said. 'It's from my husband.'
'Why?' she said.
'Just because,' I said.

And so it went on. Three more people asked exactly the same questions about birthdays, anniversaries, guilt-trips, apologies.
'No,' I said. 'The reason is just because.'

Well, everyone was duly impressed by Andy's balloony chocolatey declaration. They all said how they wished their partners would do something similar.
'How long have you been together?' asked the Receptionist.
'Almost ten years,' I said.
'Wow,' she said.

Andy has sent me other surprising stuff through the post to my workplaces over the years. Flowers on several occasions. A pink Lady Penelope Rolls Royce toy. A sachet of carrot and coriander soup. That took some explaining.

I send him stuff too. It's not a regular occurence. It happens just irregularly enough to make it a surprise.

Go on. Try it. Send something through the post to your loved one - partner, parent, child, mad aunt, grandpa. It'll make them smile.

You don't need a reason. Just because.

The Worst Kept Secret

'There's a new series of River Cottage on the telly this week,' said Andy on Friday as he flicked though the wholly inadequate TV guide that comes with our local newspaper.
'Hurrah!' I said, because as you know we are very keen followers of Hugh F-W. We have learned many things from his programmes and think doing things 'Hugh's Way' is a good way to get started in fending for yourself as much as possible whilst maintaining a good quality of life for yourselves and your crops and livestock. We have many of Hugh's books, too, which are an entertaining and educational read. They also have nice arty pictures and smell of lovely printers ink. We often say, 'We should go to River Cottage one day and do a course/ eat in the restaurant/stalk Hugh.'

'Time to make elder flower cordial and elder flower wine,' said Andy on Saturday afternoon. The week of sun we've had has brought the elder flower into full and extravagant blossom and it seems a pity not to use some of it especially as the last of the nettle beer was quaffed ages ago.
'Good idea, ' I said. 'What does Hugh say about elderflowers?'
'There's even a recipe for elder flower champagne,' said Andy.
'Yes,' I said, 'I remember watching Hugh making it on last year's River Cottage series.'

Later, Andy was still ensconsed on the sofa with a selection of Hugh's books.
'I'm just looking to see what we should be doing in June as it is June on Monday,' he said. 'You know, in terms of wine making and seasonal cooking. I fancy finding out what Hugh says about seasonal puddings.'
'Good idea,' I said, suspecting Hugh might say something about strawberries and rhubarb and lemon possett. There was a Hugh recipe for lemon possett in the Guardian magazine a couple of weeks ago. It was dead easy to make and looked delicious but it also consisted of wild amounts of double cream and sugar and shortbread on the side. So on the instructions of my arteries I consigned the magazine to the recycle bin before I had a reckless moment and made the recipe.

On Sunday afternoon, Andy disappeared into his study, as is his wont. He re-appeared later on trying to conceal an 'I'm-very-pleased-with-myself 'smile.
'You look very pleased with yourself,' I said.
'I've just booked us something very special for our wedding anniversary,' he said.
'Oooh,' I said, placing the River Cottage Bread book on the floor. 'What is it?'
'I'm not telling you,' said Andy. 'It's a SURPRISE!'
'Can I guess?' I asked.
'No,' said Andy, 'because if you guess right I shall have to lie to you in order to maintain the surprise and I don't want to do that.'
'Okay,' I said, 'I shan't guess,' and I moved onto the River Cottage Jams and Preserves book.

There was a bit of a pause.

'All right,' said Andy. 'Have a guess.'
'No, it's all right,' I said. 'I'm happy to be surprised. And I don't want to have to put you in the position of fib telling if I guess right and you don't want me to know that I've guessed right even though you are a very transparent person and I shall know IMMEDIATELY if you are fibbing and shall guess that I guessed right thereby negating the surprise element of the anniversary surprise.'
'Breathe,' said Andy.
'Are we going to River Cottage?' I said.
'YES!!' said Andy.

So we are going to River Cottage for a four course dinner for our wedding anniversary in August and staying in a posh hotel afterwards. Sadly, Hugh does not attend Friday nights at his restaurant, but I reckon if I'm determined I can track him down. I thought I could hide in the kitchen overnight and surprise him on Saturday morning.

It's all VERY exciting!