Warning: Sloppy sentimental post follows, please ensure that your seat backs are upright, trays closed and footrests up and that you have secured all personal belongings. . .
Ah Mrs Grendel, who would have imagined all those years ago that not only would I have dragged you all the way back to WA, but that we'd also have two boys, that you'd be a scrapbooking master (master/mistress, I can never figure this scrapping terminology out!) and that I'd have an A-grade obsession with coffee.
Now I've figured out how we got the children - and scrapbooking seems to be an inevitable consequence of kids, but where did the coffee come from. Certainly no one at the wedding said anything about the coffee and no one gave us any coffee related gifts that I can recall. Chocolate was always your preference for a, errr 'play food' (hmmm so chocolate leads to children eh?) and coffee seemed something we went out for on a daily basis while living in Subi.
Ahhhhh, Subi = cafes, children = suburbs and suburbs = no cafes. No cafes = no good coffee which results in the desire to find good coffee. When no good coffee can be found then the only thing left to do is roast your own, and ignoring the first 6-months or scorched beans and smoked out house otherwise seems to have worked out.
Which must mean that if we'd never played around with the chocolate sauce I wouldn't have discovered coffee, however the I think I tend to overate the influence of chocolate sauces on your natural sauciness so I will discount that element and present the final equation in its simplest form.
Given that our marriage and subsequent children (oh dear how conventional of us!) predated and investigative forays into paper and coffee based fascinations, it follows that the procreative act is an essential and immediate precursor to these eventualities.
Sex = Coffee
I love you Mrs Grendel – Happy Anniversary!