TYING THE KNOT

Press, Volume CXIII, Issue 33407, 13 December 1973, Page 23

TYING THE KNOT

One of the most delighted experiences during the

courtship days of young affianced ones is the

membership committee of two who plan ahead for their hopes, their new homes and future happiness, be they mere castles in the air or built on solid foundations.

There is one young city couple with whom we have more than a nodding acquaintance who were engaged to be married longer than is normally the case. They shared the wish that before the church organist broke into the “Wedding March” they should have their own debt-free home to move into. It is to their credit that they did.

The planning of the house itself presented few

problems. The new bridegroom is an architect, and

a good one. It was mutually agreed that there should be incorporated in the plans a 10ft x 10ft den he could call his own. A sort of sanctum sanctorum, his and his alone.

On returning from their honeymoon. the bride bursting with devotion and domesticity, spent a Saturday morning dusting and tidying up their modest mansion. And the holy of holies, the den.

She eyed with curiosity a small teak box, heavily padlocked, placed on a top shelf, and asked her husband for the key so that she could explore the contents. He blushed furiously and made the weak excuse that he had misplaced it. She retorted

that in that event she would get a locksmith along and also reminded him that he had no right to keep secrets. He soon found it.

Dark thoughts kept crossing her mind. However she opened the box and found treasure trove. His old first XI and first XV caps, a scruffy cricket ball with which he had taken all 10 wickets in a social game, old school and capping mazagines, and the most dreadful discovery of all. On opening a shoe box she immediately knew what had become of all the impossible neckties that she had given him as presents for many of his birthdays. And a similar number of Christmases.