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730 Weeks and Counting.

Fourteen years ago yesterday, I went on my first date with my wife, which now puts us in our fifteenth year; I wonder if we get a prize for this? Or a grant at least.

If I try to weigh up whether it feels that long ago, I'd say it probably does - it certainly doesn't seem like only last week - and yet I can safely say that night at the Hen & Chickens in Islington was the beginning of something truly special for me that still keeps giving fourteen years later; without wishing to provoke vomit, my life got better from there on in.

The main thing I gained was the sense of a problem shared; I know we're a team and I have someone I trust implicitly. I'm very aware of how fortunate I am to have this. It's also something that time only strengthens and getting married strengthened it still.

To say I'm lucky would be an understatement when so many people struggle to find someone to be with, let alone have anything in common. Somehow, I landed on my feet (which was probably something to do with that deal I made on the crossroads that saw my guitar-playing improve considerably too). 

What's extraordinary about our relationship is I've never doubted it was right for a moment; what made our first date flow so easily has seen us through everything since. On the 25th of February 2005, I met my best friend and my life got better. Then nine years later, we returned to the same North London pub when I asked her to marry me. After that, things got better still. She makes me laugh daily and we've never run out of things to talk about, which is pretty impressive.

It's worth punching the numbers: fourteen years is 5114 days, which is 122,736 hours. That's equal to 7,364,160 minutes, which is 441,849,600 seconds. Anyone who's spent that long with me deserves a medal or a week off. 

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