I expect you imagine that Mrs RM and I share a glamorous lifestyle punctuated by glitzy celebration of life events.
Well, we spent our 29th wedding anniversary in a campervan parked in the far corner of Blairgowrie’s unglitzy car park, whose sign I checked seven times to ensure it didn’t prohibit overnight parking. We left no trace.
We both forgot the anniversary. Again. Normally my mum reminds me a few days before by sending us a card, but of course we’d been on a road trip this year.
At least we both forget “together”, like in the Prudential advert of the early 1990s.
And we enjoyed the riverside, particularly the rocky section near Hunter’s Leap.
I think the traditional way to celebrate a 29th anniversary is a stiff walk round the weird shops of a Perthshire town, which is all Mrs RM got so I hope she enjoyed it.
Some of this stuff will give you nightmares.
It’s a town that’s seen better days, but haven’t we all, eh ? (No, the best days are always ahead).
I offered Mrs RM a last beer (well, Tennent’s) in the Balmoral, the Queen’s own boozer, but she wasn’t fussed.
One good thing about Scotland is that shops are allowed to open late on Sundays, so we made ourselves a picnic from Tesco’.
But when we finally cracked the can this week, our opinion of peanut butter imperial stouts was changed forever as a gorgeous vinous liquid emerged.
Anyway, here’s to another 29 years, at the end of which I may hopefully have finished all the Scottish Spoons, but you never can tell.