Twenty years ago this month, I first went out with my husband (yes, a bit later on I chucked him and wafted off to Africa for a year, but let's just gloss over that bit for now). When we were due to go on our first date, I had a hideous cold, so - instead of a hot date - he made me spaghetti bolognese and tucked me up in bed with a box of tissues. For me, that first spag bol was more romantic than the biggest bouquet of flowers or posh meal. I'm telling you about this now not only because it's 20 years since the event, but because it has influenced another relationship.
I mentioned the spag bol thing to my Wednesday class, adding that my husband has now taught our 11-year-old son to make it, because clearly wowing the totty with home cooking is an invaluable life skill. Today, one of my students said that the story has changed her marriage. She's from Taiwan, and married to an only-child man. When she got married, her mother-in-law took her aside and told her to remember that once she was a wife and mother, there would be no time off (I know, what century are we living in?). However, when she was ill over Christmas, she told her husband what I'd said about the spag bol incident, and even though he was utterly flabbergasted at the idea of a man doing any kind of domestic nonsense, he did cook and look after the children for her, so that she could get better quickly. She says now, even though she's better, he'll get up and get breakfast for the family. It has transformed their home life.
So, Hubby, if you read this, I salute you! x