Husband = Fish (I did the math)

My husband can only be described as a ‘fish.’ If true to be told, I am sure he would rather live in the sea.  Every now and again I have to check he hasn’t grown gills.

To top it all, his favourite meal is seafood.  His best day would probably be just eating seafood, floating on a lilo in the sea.

When we got married, some time ago now, I arranged the honeymoon with an added surprise for him.

A villa in Portugal with a private swimming pool.  After a blissful totally memorable wedding day with 500 guests, and a couple of luxurious nights at the Cumberland Hotel in Marble Arch, London West End, we set off on our long-awaited, much-needed honeymoon.

Upon arrival, the taxi driver parked outside the villa and began to unload our luggage.  My husband emerged from the taxi and squinted in the glorious bright sunshine at the villa and said “Is this ours?” staring at the pool. “Yes!” I replied “all ours”.  Before I had even finished the sentence, he was racing down the path, and burst open the door.  Meanwhile, myself and Mr Helpful Taxi Man lugged the suitcases up the path.  Husband of two days, grabbed a suitcase chattering and singing away to himself and within seconds, he changed into his beach wear and was airborne, dive bombing into the secluded, utterly private pool, entirely to ourselves.

I am in absolutely no doubt that if that opportunity were to arise again, but this time on the shores of Anguilla, history will surely repeat itself.