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So how did you two meet?


Yes – That old chestnut! 🙂

How many times have you been asked? Dinner parties, work functions, social events even your mother wants to know!

With San Valentino knocking at the door I thought I’d like to ask you how you met your other half. I moved in next door to mine….

Remember me telling you about fighting the fear and moving back to the UK in 2004? Well I arrived in Ol’ Blighty on the 31st July and on the following Monday I started work and was living with my grandmother whilst we found a house for me. Megan was staying on in Italy for the summer and would join me when I was ready for her.

As luck, coincidence or destiny would have it, a house came up just around the corner from my Nan’s and it was within my price range. Again everything fell into place so easily and I moved in at the end of August.

Curious as any woman is, I watched the goings on on the square to see who my neighbours were and whilst washing my dishes at the kitchen window one morning I noticed my single next door neighbour leave his house in shorts and sandles….nice bum…nice body..short hair…mmm

Don’t be so stupid Marianne, you’ve only just got here woman, haven’t you got plenty of other things to be getting on with’

I was right of course and ignored the thought moving on to more pressing problems.

Megan arrived. That took up time. Getting her into a school, buying a uniform – no uniforms in Italy (and that went down as you can imagine –  like a ton of bricks). We also needed furniture, to decorate and start our new life together. My number one intention was to make this move as easy as possible for her as I was so conscious how difficult it was.

But damn those dishes that need washing every day. There he was again, accompanied by a woman! Eyes quickly reverted to the soap suds. Why hadn’t I considered that? Of course there was bound to be someone in his life. Oh well that’s settled that then, hasn’t it? I can just forget about it and move on.

I was ever so slightly miffed about the other woman for some inexplicable reason.

We would exchange niceties over the garden fence or bumping into each other over the weekend and the lovely man said, ‘If you ever need me don’t hesitate to knock on my door’ and before you go thinking the worse, he was genuine.

Anyway, I certainly wouldn’t be needing him after all I was an independent woman getting on with life but thank you anyway.

End of September (hadn’t been sight of that woman for a few weeks now) I wanted to drive to London to see my brother and the Clio I had (that was practically new) was refusing to start. Of course I didn’t have a clue so what did I do? That’s it, I knocked on his door hoping it was a quick case of jump leads.

It wasn’t. He had his head stuck under the bonnet all morning, made some phone calls (His brother had a Renault) but nothing could coerce her into firing up. We jumped in his car and went to a friend of his to borrow some jump leads but still the Clio stubbornly refused to budge.

So it was decided to remove the battery from under the bonnet and plug it in my back room to recharge it. (Don’t ask me, I told you I don’t have a clue!)

Whilst all this had been going on, Megan had stormed outside and announced in a high-pitched, on the verge of tears shout, that she was returning to Italy as she was fed up with me, fed up with life in Britain and she hated her new school. Just another little domestic to add to the issue!

I remember him asking with a smile ‘How long has she been here?’

‘About two weeks’ came my reply with a smile that was too tight and eyes that gave all the difficulty away.

So after he’d given up his entire Saturday I felt I had to invite him round for dinner to say thanks and that was how we met.

What I didn’t tell you is I later found out Paul works in a bank, has done since he left school at 16 and knows absolutely zilch about cars other than filling them up with petrol, checking the oil and getting them serviced once a year!

So come on then, how did you two meet?

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