Convention

A hard working day today: this morning while Mr B designed and built a fantastic set of alcove shelves for our kids' toys I quickly rattled out some curtains to cover the front of the shelves, then had a go at a Lancashire Hot Pot. I'd never made it before, and I'm not convinced it's 100% my kind of food, but it tasted ok. All that, and I didn't get up until 10.30am.

Mr B's parents were over tonight for dinner, and the picture above is the remnants of the cheese board. We're a bit extravagant with the number of cheeses we buy, I think, and usually have at least half a dozen on the go at any one time. As you can see, blue cheese is quite popular around here. I know by convention you'd have a hard cheese, a soft cheese, a goat's cheese and a blue cheese (or some such combination) but then we've rarely been accused of being conventional.

Tonight Mr B was musing on who out of our group of friends could be expected to do something really extraordinary - weird, unconventional or just plain bizarre. I was slightly confused by this, as it seemed fairly obvious to me that it was him. It's like that comment that one in four people have a mental illness, so look at three of your friends: if they're ok, then it's you. I gave a few examples from our life to remind him how we ended up where we are, and he had to agree that we had made some, in retrospect, unconventional decisions. Still, I couldn't be happier, so I accepted my share of the blame in egging him on or, at least, not stopping him.

After all, you can't live your whole life for the sake of a pension. Can you?