T'was twenty years ago this very day that my wife and I went on our first ever date.
I remember cooking a meal. I remember us going out for a KFC at about 1am.
The bits inbetween are somewhat hazy.
It's like when you reach that level of drunkeness when time goes in small, jerky movements of clear recollection, surrounded by a sea of foggy shapes and sounds.
The meal must have been good...or perhaps the KFC was exquisite...or maybe, just maybe, the foggy bits inbetween were out of this world...but 1989 proved a good year in the fine and delicate art of romantic security as we first dated in February, engaged in August and married in December.