I had a breathless phone call from Emma Biddle this afternoon. She wanted to know whether she and Matthew could come and see me.
My hackles rose. I distrust surprise visits, because they usually mean something nasty has happened, and following a string of recent events some of which I have put upon the blog and some which I haven't I feared the worst.
Did I mention that I am paranoid?
They arrived ten minutes early, and I limped downstairs fearing the worst. And I got it.
My worst fears were realised. The poor girl has had some sort of brainstorm or mental aberration, and has agreed to marry Matthew. The fact that they both call me Uncle Jon just makes me feel even older and more decrepid and the knowledge that I will be a surrogate Great Uncle to their offspring when they finally arrive just makes me feel even older still.
Seriously, however, congratulations my dears. I am very fond of you separately and together you are a lovely couple. You have a surrogate Uncle's blessing...