I am a bit of a romantic old fool who is emotionally demonstrative. I happen to be married to an archetypal Brit who sees any overt display of affection as a sign of weakness.
I have a closet, guilty pleasure in listening to Steve Wright’s Love Songs on a Sunday morning. It can be a bit mawkish and over the top but it makes me smile.
On one car journey together when it was playing and there had been various declarations of undying love to “my rock” and “my hero” and “my soulmate who gets more beautiful with every passing year”, he looked over at me, appraised me slowly and said:
“I can’t decide whether you are the albatross around my neck or the pebble in my shoe”.