I’m not a blogger. I’m not on Facebook. I’m only on Twitter because my work encouraged me, and I have the kind of mood swings that make Victor Meldrew appear chilled out. So when my wife, Chiltern Girl, told me she was going to start blogging I rolled my eyes and reached for the Nurofen. I’d spent most of the past couple of years knee-deep in excel spreadsheets planning for our wedding (last Sept) and was hoping for a bit of weekend time watching Antiques Roadshow (she hates it, I love it) and steering clear of web addresses.
I was reminded I’d made some vows at the wedding altar to the effect that “whatever the wife sayest, thou shalt support her and adhere to it.” If you can’t beat em, join em, I thought. So here I am, grumpy Chiltern Boy, with the weight of the world on my shoulders and going greyer by the minute.