A Man of Wealth and Taste.

Hello, please allow me to introduce myself. I am Richard. Some of you already know me at first hand through my own blog. Others may have seen the odd comment by me in another place but to many I'll be a complete and utter stranger even though I've been around for a long, long year. I would imagine though that all of you, every single man jack bar none of you, will have been surprised to see me cropping up in the life of the woman currently dozing (somewhat noisily, it has to be said. That's my rations gone) but nevertheless still looking delectable on my sofa.

I will admit that I too am among your number. I haven't a sodding clue how she got here either other than that I asked her if she'd like to and she said yes. Yes, sometimes it's that bloody easy. A bit of a boon after you've only ever experienced long-term relationships and hadn't actually asked anyone out on a date in the conventionally accepted manner since 1979. Her particular circumstances rendered the distance between us immediately redundant as well. And it looks like she's here to stay, too. Which is nice. Well, not stay here, she has way too much stuff as she's a woman and this house is very small but she's getting a place down the road. That's nice, too. She chose it specifically because of its inherent shedability, too. She's so caring and considerate.

Maybe it's been in the fates for decades. Several years ago I revealed to Zoe on her previous blog that for the same seven years during the 1970s we had gone to school in the same town. And not just the same town, during school hours for those seven years we were no more than about 600 yards apart, more or less along the same road. We witnessed the same events and I even walked past her school every day on my way home to the bus station. Of course, I was a grammar/comprehensive school tit and she was at the posh school with the heliotrope blazers and the felt cloche hats (I really am living on my wits now) so we never mingled; although I'd like to think that our paths may have crossed from time to time and that hers may have been among the pairs of fit young legs trotting back from the hockey fields across Mace Lane to have occasionally stolen my gaze away from my copy of Sounds magazine.

I am horrendously happy and feel insanely lucky and privileged that this lovely woman has decided sharing our lives is a good idea. It certainly feels fine to me and I can't thank her enough. Oh yeah.