Would it be anything but a cliché that almost halfway through writing a month-long blog on the theme of love, something extraordinary would happen?
At this point I should add this post comes with a warning: read at your romantic peril – it could get rather mushy.
This something is what I have long wished for, hoped for and dreamed about. The P word. It’s happened.
No, I’m not pregnant. He proposed. I said yes. Then I cried. Then I smiled. And as I type now I can’t help but focus my attention on the sparkling ring adorning my finger.
After the question was popped, I proudly spent the rest of the day showing it off, proving I could be ambidextrous and do everything left-handed whilst my right side remained lame.
Engagement, getting hitched, living happily every after – it’s a subject that I have brought up in various guises with my partner before.
He may have missed my passing glances at jewellery shop windows, a teary eye during my best friend’s big day or the sight of me flicking through the pages of bridal magazines at the hairdressers.
He certainly hasn’t missed my more direct advances, having asked him to marry me on a number of occasions.
Admittedly, it was a bit of fun. I’d casually drop it into conversation on the bus, over the breakfast table, or while he was doing the washing up. I’m pushing 34 and never been asked. Surely, it was worth a try?
But the only response I got was silence. He made it clear it was his job to do the asking – it’s the Swedish way he said. I disagreed with his sentiments but waited patiently and the proposal took place on a recent trip to my birthplace, the city of Hull on the northeast coast of England.
We had taken a walk along the shoreline and completely unexpectedly he did the deed.
He wouldn’t have known that on that very spot, over 100 years ago, thousands of Swedish emigrants landed on English soil – the first leg of their journey on their way to a better life in America.
They had voyaged from Gothenburg – my now fiancé’s home city – and after docking in Hull they would take the train to Liverpool or Southampton where the big ocean liners would greet them.
To me that was rather poignant and very beautiful – a proposal in a place linking both our backgrounds and future together.