LAST Saturday was our wedding anniversary. I am forbidden from telling you the number of years we have been married because, Bren says, such information would disclose her age.
Not that I am bothered in the slightest about anyone knowing mine, especially as it is written large in my autobiography.
To avoid any confusion, and in an attempt to keep out of trouble, I would like to say that Bren was a very young child bride.
I was going to tell you we had a very quiet celebration, but with the size of our immediate family this is never the case.
The laughter and shrieks of our grandchildren filled the house for the whole afternoon.
Our dogs had the life plagued out of them; the cats hid; the ponies retreated to the woods and a number of our daffodils were squashed by a football.
That apart, it was an extremely pleasant interlude.
It’s very difficult to know what to get for one’s partner when you have been together for so long.
So, besides a bunch of red roses, I decided to surprise my wife with something new this year. I drove to one of the greetings card shops near Leeds which provide blown-up balloons and purchased two which represented the number of years we’ve been married.
These things are about 3ft high and require a weight to hold them down.
Last Friday was a very windy day and the staff in the shop, thinking I was either too feeble to handle them myself or, as they suggested, I might be blown away if I tried to handle them on my own – which was rather flattering as it would take a hot air balloon to lift me off the ground at the moment – offered to carry them to my car for me.
I thanked them for their kindness, but refused as I was parked at the other end of the car park.
They then suggested they would wait at the door so I could drive my car to it, which is what I decided to do.
However, when I arrived back at the store I found a small group of about a dozen people gathered there, including two of the young assistants holding these large blown-up numbers for the world to see.
It seems that one of them had recognised my face and name but wrongly attributed it to a television actor.
Other people entering the store had asked why the staff were standing there with the balloons in their hands and were told a television actor was coming to collect them.
They had decided to wait to see who this individual was.
I haven’t a clue what they thought when I arrived and slowly and painfully extracted myself from my car; my back is playing me up at the moment.
However, undaunted they all rushed to the boot of my car to help squeeze the balloons in it.
Two of the shoppers, women in their 30s, asked when I would be on the box again and a much younger person asked me for my autograph.
I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was as I apologised for being in a hurry and sped away.
To top it all Bren was less impressed with the balloons than I had anticipated.
She laughed her head off when she saw them telling me I must be going senile. Perhaps I am, but they made her laugh. We should all laugh more.
Come on down and watch ‘your Giants’
NEXT Sunday the Galpharm Stadium hosts the Giants’ first home game of this season.
We are playing Leeds, a team many regard as one of the best in the world.
How many of you have not yet seen a game of Super League rugby?
I promise you, it is one of the most spectacular; exciting and entertaining events there is.
The speed and skill of these modern-day athletes outshine competitors in most other sports.
Their strength, bravery and determination can only be likened to the gladiators who entered the Roman arenas.
Children of all ages enjoy the sport and the entertainment which precedes it.
I would encourage you all to take the family and join the thousands of other townsfolk who will be there.
I am certain once you’ve seen “your Giants” play you’ll be hooked.