It is 44 years to the day since I confounded all medical science: I was cured of asthma.
OK, as nobody can be cured of asthma I suppose I should say that it is 44 years since I last suffered an attack of asthma.
I remember it well. I had been a sickly child and suffered my first asthma attack at the age of three months (or so my mother told me - I don't remember that one). During my school years I spent almost as much time at home sick as I did at school, but never had I suffered such an asthma attack as that last one. It lasted for six weeks - that's right, six weeks!
The final day was a Saturday and I was wheezing like a good ‘un when I went into church. By the time I came out a married man, the wheezing had stopped and it has never started again. Marriage had cured my asthma!
So that means that today is my 44th wedding anniversary. I had better go and buy a card or something for the Old Bat.
There was an item in yesterday's newspaper about a recipe for a happy marriage. It seems some company with nothing better to do undertook a survey and found that, for a happy marriage, four hugs a day are required, plus at least two evenings out together each month without family or friends, and seven evenings in together each month. On top of that, each partner should spend one evening a month out without the other. No mention is made of the importance of shared interests - nor of the other 10 or 11 evenings each month. Make of it what you will.