If you are like me, this morning, while you were peeling the prawns you caught last month that you have planned for your dinner tonight, your thoughts began to wander. Among other things, great prawn feasts of the past may have come to mind.

Sitting late at night on the pier at Sydney Harbour with our closest friends, catching prawns with our very young children. I think our son was four months old and theirs was maybe two? We wrapped a net over a bicycle wheel and lowered it off the dock. We caught enough prawns to complete a fabulous barbeque steak dinner. It was a memorable weekend of prawns, wine, and good friends. It was 1986.

Prawns in black bean sauce was thereafter my go to choice at our favorite restaurant, Brock House. We spent many evenings there, celebrating big events in our life. Birthdays, Christmas, Valentines etc., at a table by the ocean. We would spend more money than we had, on those rare occasions when we dined out without the kids. The last time we were there was the weekend before we moved to the island. It was our last official meal in a fancy la di da restaurant in the big city.

Then it occurred to me as I peeled more prawns for our dinner, that Valentines is coming up and this weekend will be the 41st anniversary of our decision to get married. I say our decision but it wasn’t really a joint plan as much as the first time E didn’t say no fast enough. I took it as a yes.

On Feb. 6 1981, after our regular Friday night dinner with a large group of friends at Los Hombres on Blood Alley in Gastown, served with a great deal of Cervesa, we went home and fell into bed. Without going into too much detail, E basically fell asleep agreeing to get married. In the morning I asked him, when we were going to tell our parents and he replied.. Tell them what?

It was too late. Before the end of the day I likely had the hall booked and the reception planned. There was no getting out of it for him. If you are like me at the time, a girl with a mission, you get shit done.

In the forty years since, there have been other times when he didn’t say no fast enough. I remember a time when it seemed our nest was getting too empty and I suggested we adopt the dog I had seen that afternoon. He didn’t say no, so I grabbed our daughter and literally ran out the door to adopt and return with our Sami.

He says no to a great many of my ideas so, when I see any sign of hesitancy, I take it as a yes. It is a strategy that has worked for me for forty years and I am fairly certain

he doesn’t mind.