Many people see Fred and I as the perfect couple. Due to Fred’s large personality it would be easy for his wife to be overlooked; not likely in this relationship! He has in the past accused me of doing too little to support him, quite forgetting the shoulder I so often supply to prop him up after another meeting with Bankers’ Delight.
We met – oh, a while back. Actually it’s more the case that we ran into each other. Or rather, he ran into me. I’d borrowed a girlfriend’s sports convertible for a trip to my parents whilst my car was out of action. Driving through the country lanes of Leerhamptonshire, I rounded a bend and had my bonnet removed by a thundering great Range Rover with Fred behind the wheel. As his car was on my side of the road, and there was olfactory evidence of BD, there wasn’t much doubt about who was to blame (there never is really if there’s trouble when Fred’s around). Due no doubt to the racy nature of the car, my 4 inch red stilettos, and rather revealing decolletage, Fred was instantly smitten. And it just went on from there, really….
Fred made rather a lot of assumptions about my background so it was something of a surprise to him when he met the parents. Well and truly hooked by then, though, we married and have lived – well, ‘together’ probably sums it up best – ever since. We rub along comfortably enough; I make allowances in return for my very large allowance, and that seems to suit us both rather well.
My one indulgence (that I own up to, as it can be seen by all) is the collection of old breed pigs at Lawnder Hall. Tamworths, Berkshires (which despite the name originated in middle England), and Gloucestershire Old Spots. There’s a tradition of pig-breeding at the Hall, and stories abound as to how our local hostelries got their names – but more of that another time.
Lawnder Hall, Much Grumbling in the Wolds 