We won’t be sharing a picture of our naked feet
- Credit: Archant
We are now officially planning for our Ruby Wedding celebration in 2018.
On Saturday, we passed the 39-year marker and so it's looking as if we might manage to stay together for another 363 days.
One thing we shall not be doing, however, is releasing a picture of our feet for the occasion. We did think about it after David and Samantha Cameron photographed their little piggies for their 21st anniversary – but then I remembered about my feet.
My husband has nice feet: not at all smelly... unlike mine. One short walk in the sunshine and we're talking acute bromodosis. According to the Boots the Chemist website: 'Feet smell when bacteria on the skin break down sweat as it comes from the pores. A cheesy smell is released as the sweat decomposes.'
Lovely. Anyway, it's not so much about the smell as the appearance of my feet. I have bunions; my second toe is longer than my big toe, and my little toe is so small it barely exists. This is not the best look for an anniversary photo shoot. But then, a quick MOT check list of the remainder of my body parts reveals I don't really have anything that's going to look good in a publicity shot. Unless we're talking promotional material for Nightmare on Elm Feet.
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We had a party for our 25th; one hundred people at a Tudor mansion with a buffet supper and an excess of wine. Everyone, apart from a handful of designated drivers, was rather tipsy and when we spilled out into the night to walk home, it was not without a lot of singing, giggling and 'shhh-ing'.
I'm not sure we can top that... I'm not sure I could walk home now. We're looking for something different and not too horribly expensive (my husband is semi-retired, after all).
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A mystery coach trip, maybe. As a kid I went on a number of these with my nanna and it always seemed to be a matter of setting out from outside the pub at the end of the road and taking a long way round to another pub. A Britvic orange and a packet of cheese and onion crisps was my reward for sitting on an itchy moquette seat for an hour.
So what's it to be? Daughter Ruth went to a christening recently and guests were asked to give the baby boy a copy of their favourite childhood book. What a great idea. When little Charlie is older he will have (hopefully) a small library of classics from Kenneth Grahame to Roald Dahl; E Nesbit to JK Rowling.
Maybe we could do something similar with adult books... er, maybe not.
Website thespruce.com suggests burying a time capsule but my husband picked up on the idea with a little too much enthusiasm and I simply refused to get in. Or, it suggested, renew your marriage vows... to be honest, I didn't realise they'd run out. I suppose a few of them could do with a revamp:
To have and to hang in there
From this day forward
For good and better, for worse and worser,
For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in fair to middling health.
To love and to cherish (with a cup of tea) till death us do part
• Last week I revealed the top four most-fancied children's TV presenters and mentioned that I never had a thing for any of the kids' television presenters when Ruth and Mark were little – not even Brian Cant.
Dorinda writes: 'Ah Lynne, I must confess I did rather fancy Brian Cant and the other one, who used to play the piano but whose name escapes me for now. I remember taking (my son) Justin and his friend Sarah to see Play Away at the Theatre Royal in Bury St Edmunds and had my big chance when I was approached to go up on the stage and join in... we were in the front row.
'I have to tell you, I wimped out and refused to go... a missed opportunity? Perhaps, but we don't really want our fantasies to come true, do we?'
Maybe not, Dorinda, but if I was to find George Clooney standing at the bottom of my bed in the middle of the night I'm not sure I would want anyone to wake me up.