Jaded
Grandad January 27th, 2010
It’s our wedding anniversary this weekend.
I had to delve into the recesses of my memory, but I’m fairly sure we got married in ‘75.
Holy fuck!
Thirty five fucking years!!!
It’s hard to believe.
During all that time, I am proud to say that I have remained faithful loyal married, which must be some kind of record. If I were American, I would be onto my fifth or sixth by now, and sunning myself on a beach in Florida with a nice young twenty-something. But I’m Irish, so I’m stuck here in the mountains with Herself.
Apparently it’s our ‘jade anniversary’ which means I am supposed to buy her something to do with jade. She can fuck off. I know of a slapper called Jade who works in a nightclub in Skobieville, so I might make myself a present of her for the night, but that’s as far as it goes [apart from the follow up trip to the STD clinic?].
Thirty. Five. Fucking. Years.
I can’t get over it.
Half the population of this Godforsaken country wasn’t even born, thirty five years ago.
I’m not going to mention it, of course. With a bit of luck she’ll forget. And if she doesn’t, she had better get me a damned good present.
It had better be a fucking medal.






