A quarter of a century ago

I met my ex. 25 years ago today, November 12 1991, at 9:05 in the evening, in a pub in Greater Manchester. I fell in love with her in a matter of days, proposed to her less than four months later, married her fourteen months after that. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. But it wasn't to be. In fact, it was probably the worst mistake of my whole life, and there are many candidates for that accolade. I thought she was the one to save me from myself, and fooled myself accordingly. But, ultimately, the one person you can never fool, for any length of time, anyway, is yourself. There is K, of course, so it hasn't been a complete disaster, but, my daughter apart, when I ask myself the question 'would I rather have never been in that pub on that fateful night?', the answer, I’m afraid, has to be 'yes'.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B