What is romance?

Is my DS romantic? CQ asked me. Her son isn’t unless he’s told. At coffee one man, P, suggested that putting your socks in the laundry basket was romantic. He teases. Old J had no suggestions. T told a tale of a friend whose wife had been away. “Thank goodness you’re home” he'd greeted her. “I was about to go out to M&S and buy some underpants. He’d walked past the clean pile every day but couldn't see them because she’d not put them in his drawer. He could take an engine apart but not see a pile of his own clean underwear! My first dead husband, Richard wouldn’t have known romance if it hit him in the face. At best he’d tease like P. On an early date with him, he stared into my eyes, then said, "hang on, you've got something on your eyelash" - it was mascara. T told a story of him and his late wife…. On an early date, her hand crept across the table so he moved to put his hand over hers when she grabbed an asparagus stick. No romance in her either!

Jane’s late husband sounds as romantic as my Adrian giving her flowers and chocolates. I'd come back from the campus to find a pile of G&B chocolate on my desk so would have to stay there and write my thesis. Adrian would leave chocolates on my desk - why is chocolate symbolic of romance?

When I was between husbands, courting, I sent postcards from my skiing trip to three men. One never mentioned it, another thanked me for it, but Adrian replied, not by post or phone, but by email, pretty new and technical for most people in 1999. And the content of his email? He replied with a poem, and a poem in French. So not only was he romantic, and courteous, but also was educated and enjoyed new experiences. No wonder he was marriable.

Burns night

I haven't blogged about Burns night for years: https://ejh2.blogspot.com/2009/01/burns-night-nanna.html

Burns night each January - it's an excuse for me to get me a haggis. However, haggis is too peppery for me unless I have bland neeps with it. I may or may not have mash - I often have no potatoes in the house because I rarely eat them.  We used to go round our neighbours on Burns night because she was Scottish and would encourage the celebration. But I don't remember any such BN parties here where I live now.

However, son and DiL get the chance to go to their club to celebrate each year. As far as I can see, it's one of the rare evenings they go out together, so I happily babysit their two bairns. They come back v late - I suspect Scottish whiskey has been drunk. This year son got to read a Robbie Burns poem, "For a' that" to the assembled club members. He'd had time to practise its rhythm and pronounciation this year so was confident. I think he enjoyed the performance. DiL enjoyed the company - she's sociable. They got home rather late but the bairns had gone to sleep hours earlier and all was quite quiet and I drove home along an almost empty A road.