Sharing

Today a momentous thing happened. The Mister and I opened a joint bank account.

Not so unusual, I know. We've been living together for over a year and a half. We share most things already:

• Bills
• Milk
• Not toothbrushes. (well, ok, once. I was desperate and we were staying away from home.)
• A really weird penchant for trying to guess the students' subjects on University Challenge before they announce them. (It's pretty easy to spot a Physicist. They usually look like Brian May.)
• An annoying propensity to play 'the adverts game' even when in public, at the cinema. (This is when you try to name the company or product first, without it being mentioned or flashed up on-screen, for the uninitiated). He ALWAYS gets them. It's ok when we play at home, except that every time he guesses it's the Kindle advert correctly, I have to listen to him humming the annoying music for the rest of the ad's duration, whilst doing an annoying little victory dance.

We're both only children (with the exception of half-siblings we didn't ever live with), so you might say that we had to be taught to share in a way that I suppose those in larger families do not. Or maybe it's the opposite. Maybe if you had many brothers and sisters around you, clambouring to stick your prized lego up their nose, or eat your fingerpaints, you'd learn to hoard.

Anyway, I digress. This sharing is different. It's the first time in my life I've ever linked myself with another human being to this extent. It's not about the finances. It's about the trust.

I trust someone else to keep up their end of the bargain and pitch in. And that's a nice feeling.

Operation Easter Bunny

Easter weekend is coming up, and I'm buzzing.

Here's why - on Thursday last week I got this happy little message in my inbox from the Mister:

Operation Easter Bunny requests your presence:

Date: Friday 2nd April

Time:

08:30hrs

Location:

London Railway Station (need-to-know-basis)

Kit:

Wee suitcase containing enough clothing for 2 night stay, toilet bag (own toothbrush optional), scrabble, notebook, book, make-up, waterproofs (we hope these will not be needed), swimming gear (optional but I'm taking mine)

Rendez-Vous at [our home address] - ready to leave at 07:30.

We will be returning to above address late afternoon on the 4th April 2010.

How sweet is that? Never did I think that those casually-dropped hints would have been taken on board so readily by the man in my life. "Wouldn't it be great to be surprised with a call to say, meet me at the airport with just your passport and toothbrush, you've got the next few days off work," is a sentence that has passed my lips many times, but has never been put into action. Until now (well, within reason). Actually I don't know if I'd want someone else to sort out my holiday dates with work. Scrap that.

He's a special one, and I'm an extremely lucky girl. The only trouble is: I'm also an extremely sniffly girl. I seem to have come down with a cold just in time to be a bit worried about whether I'll enjoy being whisked away as much as I'd enjoy my own bed, my slippers, fleece blanket and the entire back catalogue of Come Dine With Me. So today I'm at home resting up to make sure that wherever we're going, I'm going to give Operation Easter Bunny my best.

It's quite exciting, though, isn't it? I wonder where we're going. Waterproofs? Well, clearly we're not leaving the UK. Swimming gear? Does that mean a pool? Or does it mean some crazy Scottish urge to throw ourselves into subzero waters to prove some kind of point about hardiness?

His 'own toothbrush' clause points to a long-standing discussion (debate would be too strong a word) about why I won't share a toothbrush with anyone, not even my beloved. I'm sure my mum won't mind me blaming this on her microbiologist habit of analysing the likelihood of bacterial growth on any surface at any given time. It took me a long time to be able to share a can of coke. I know, it's sad. I'm working on it.

Anyway, I'll write all about it, wherever it is we're going, once we're back. Here's wishing you a wonderful Easter break too.