Feel a little coy about sharing the most, erm, intimate aspects of being an army wife with you, but anyway...

Last night, in the marital bed (mattress on the floor), Hubby nestled towards me and gently cupped my left breast with his manly hand. Mmm, that's nice, I mumbled drowsily.
Listen, pal, he replied, somewhat testily, don't think you can just lie there and enjoy it, this will have to be reciprocated in a bit.

Do you think that somehow, somewhere, after ten years of marriage, that little burning spark of romance might have been starved of oxygen?
Ah well.

Anyway, he is away next week, and will miss me and regret his irascibility (I'm not sure if this is the right word but it sounds good to me).

I have scheduled book club at my house whilst he is away - he cannot tolerate the 'witches of book club' whilst he's in residence, which I'm hoping will be a night of wine, chocolate and some passing references to the Time Traveller's Wife (which I read five years ago and can barely remember except that it made me cry at the end. After several glasses of wine I will probably cry again merely at the memory and bang on about how beautiful it is and then swoon into bed sending nostaligic and loving texts to Hubby, forgetting all about the whole reciprocation issue and just remembering how much I adore him. He will receive these texts in the middle of the night, fast asleep in preparation for a hard day's work on his very important course the next day, and will be irritated to be woken up. So somehow the ends will all tie up, I will, in vino veritas, remember how much I really do love him, but by waking him up to tell him, I will also have exacted some rather delicious revenge. Sounds like a plan to me!).

The only worry about hosting book club is my phobia of entertaining and my serious lack of stuff. I am having to ask people to brink their own wine glasses (why oh why didn't we have a proper white wedding so we could stock up on things like wine glasses and fondu sets?). People have been laughing when I say bring a bottle and your own wine glass, but I am deadly serious as we own a grand total of three wine glasses. So book club may all end up drinking out of plastic winnie the pooh beakers and chipped coffee mugs, and then my status as slum dweller in the community will be well and truly sealed.