Today is a double bunger.  It is Phil's birthday and it is also our 11th Wedding Anniversary.

I have pre-written this as a) we have a hectic schedule between today and the last time I blogged and b) I want to enjoy this day.

It kind of just happened that we got married on his birthday.  It certainly wasn’t in our original “plan”.

See, we’d booked the church for September.  The dress was paid for and sitting patiently in my closet.  The venue had been narrowed down.   And then, well then I missed a very important date.  My period. 

So everything I had ready for nine months time, all those moments I had already lived out in my mind, exploded into a cloud of morning sickness and fear.

One thing I was sure of, I wanted to be married before I had that baby because otherwise, I knew we would just never, you know, get around to it.
 
And look, it’s not like we didn’t get quality time together before we got hitched.  We had been together for over four years.  We had been travelling, albeit to Bali a hundred times, but still.  We were living together and saving for a house.  So we knew what we wanted, we just didn’t realise our undies only need touch for me to fall pregnant.
 
So what to do?  I clearly remember feeling that ill during my first 16 weeks of my first pregnancy, I could barely get myself dressed and into work, let alone pull together a wedding for 80 people.  But somehow I did.  I would say we, but let’s face it, Phil just turned up (oh and fixed the drain, more on that soon).

And the date, well it just had to be that date. The reasons elude me now.  Perhaps I thought it would be cute to get married on his birthday.  I was only 23.  Maybe it was the only day those around me could definitely make it. I have no freaking idea, but that’s what we did.

So, going with the track record of the last, oh say 100 years of fairly mild, dry early winters, we organised for the ceremony to be held on the headland at Burleigh Beach.  My girlfriends and I would drive up there on the weekends proceeding the day, Savage Garden blasting and all four of us bubbling over with excitement.   We would map out where I would walk, where Phil would stand and look out onto the Ocean I expected to say our vows to.

But of course, fate had other plans for me.  I went to bed, the night before the wedding to the sound of pouring rain.  No problem I thought, it will stop.    I put my pillow over my ears so I couldn’t hear it.

Yet, the next day, it was still raining.  Ot Oh. 

June 5, 1999, was the rainiest day on the Gold Coast in over 16 years.  A fact I heard bandied about and marvelled over quite a few times during that day.  That and the old chestnut “Rain on your wedding day is good luck”.  Bet no one says that to a couple when they get married on a balmy sunshiny day. 

The wedding and reception was moved to my in-laws big, beautiful house in Burleigh.  I can honestly say I loved my day.  And even though my husband was on his parents roof 30 minutes before I was meant to arrive plugging a leaking drain, he too looked a vision when I eventually walked in on my brothers arm to “A groovy Kind of Love”. 

I remember lots of tears and a lot of love in that room that afternoon.  I remember a friend saying to me “That is the best ceremony I have ever been to; you could just tell the love between you two is real”.  That meant a lot to me.

We babymooned in Bali, one last time and enjoyed our last months as a married couple sans kids. 

4 months later, our lives changed again.  Again, there was rain event.  Seems we Morleys love a good rain event.  You can almost set your clocks to us.

So Happy Birthday Phil.  I asked your son Sam today how old he reckons you are.  He said “Well, considering he’s old and  crippled, I’d say the big four oh”.   You're not far off mate and even though you still haven’t moved past goggling tits on the interwebz and more than likely will never read this, I love you.  Happy Anniversary beautiful man.