Thirty years ago today, we got married. There were no grand plans for the day. We spent the morning at home, then decided to go out for lunch at a cafe in the next town.
Our romantic anniversary lunch was briefly threatened by a serious catering crisis: there was only one steak sandwich left.
Naturally, after thirty years of marriage, I graciously let my husband have it.
This act of selfless devotion was made considerably easier by the fact that I prefer burgers anyway.
My burger was delicious, hubby got his steak sandwich, and marital harmony was maintained.
No champagne, roses or sweeping romantic gestures for us. Just lunch, and the same person I married thirty years ago – his face carefully pixelated in this photo to preserve his privacy.
It feels a little sad to obscure my husband’s handsome face, but at least I have the original photo, and the man, to cherish.