I\u2019ve always believed that life is a bit like a cricket match. You turn up in good faith, bat your best innings, sometimes get caught out by a googly \u2014 and if you\u2019re lucky, you find someone willing to be your batting partner for the long haul.<\/p>\n
For me, that partner has been Sheila.<\/p>\n
This December marks 57 years since we tied the knot. And while it\u2019s tempting to sum it all up in a neat line about love and loyalty, the truth is more textured, more vivid, and \u2014 dare I say \u2014 more amusing than any card message can capture. So today, I want to talk not just about our years together, but about what truly held them together: a shared map, a few moths, and a mutual respect that\u2019s never once been up for negotiation.<\/p>\n
Let me explain.<\/p>\n
Early in our married life, when we were living in Cardiff before moving to Swansea, we had an old wooden wardrobe that had clearly seen better decades. It creaked like a chapel pew and smelt faintly of lavender and history. One evening, I pulled out my best navy blazer only to discover it had become a midnight buffet for moths. Holes everywhere.<\/p>\n
I was furious. But Sheila, calm as ever, simply said, \u201cWell, they\u2019ve got taste.\u201d\u00a0 She has a thing about moths, by the way!<\/p>\n
It was one of those tiny moments that says everything about a person. Where I saw ruin, she saw humour. That balance \u2014 of perspective, of temperament, of giving each other the benefit of the doubt \u2014 has been our moth-eaten but marvellously resilient secret weapon.<\/p>\n
We\u2019ve travelled more miles than most \u2014 from Llanbradach and Swansea to Riyadh, from desert wadis to the Sydney Opera House, with pitstops in Petra, Petra\u2019s camel rides, and the occasional scuba dive in the Red Sea. But we never travelled without a map \u2014 even if sometimes it was in my head, or scribbled on the back of a postcard.<\/p>\n
Marriage, too, needs a map. Ours wasn\u2019t always written in ink. It changed \u2014 with careers, children, cricket and football fixtures. But we agreed on the destination: a life of togetherness, growth, and shared adventure.<\/p>\n
And we agreed on one key rule: when lost, don\u2019t argue about who took the wrong turn. Just find the next signpost together.<\/p>\n
The phrase sounds formal, but it\u2019s anything but. Respect has been our daily bread. Not just in the big things \u2014 career decisions, raising three children, moving countries \u2014 but in the little ones. Letting the other have the last biscuit. Listening properly. Knowing when to speak and when to stay silent.<\/p>\n
In Saudi Arabia, I worked at a large general hospital while Sheila taught at the British School. The social circles were small, the heat was relentless, and the cultural adjustments many. But we respected each other\u2019s space, rhythms and strengths. That mutuality made our marriage not just survivable, but thrive-able.<\/p>\n
We didn\u2019t always agree. But we never stopped agreeing to listen. That\u2019s the quiet core of 57 years well spent.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s funny what sticks in memory. Cricket and football matches, yes. Birthday cakes melting in desert heat. Maps marked with tiny \u2018X\u2019s that now feel like treasures. Moth-chewed jackets. School plays, rugby mornings, and standing on the edge of Uluru, wondering how two kids from the South Wales Valleys had made it all the way there.<\/p>\n
And through it all, we\u2019ve kept score not by wins or losses, but by moments. By cups of coffee (or G and Ts) after long days. By notes on the fridge. By being there \u2014 truly there \u2014 in all the things that matter.<\/p>\n
We don\u2019t know how many more overs are left. But we\u2019re still padded up, still watching the field, still in the game. And above all, still in partnership.<\/p>\n
So here\u2019s to 57 years. To moths, maps, and the kind of mutual respect that turns an ordinary life into an extraordinary journey.<\/p>\n
And yes, Sheila \u2014 you were right. They did have taste. But I still miss that blazer, even though it wouldn’t fit any more.<\/p>\n
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