Continuing our story

Now that the anniversary of her death has gone for another year, I can resume the Iris saga and write about happier times.
The summer of 1973 was, for Iris, an eye-opener. Before then, she had hardly ever been on holiday away from home and she had very rarely been anywhere of note. This had changed dramatically and she was living an entirely different life-style.
We were, in all events, a couple; just as much as any married couple were and she revelled in it!
She took pleasure in little things that most couples took for granted. She would delight in preparing a meal for me in the evenings after work. She would curl up with me to watch television and was always so very eager to entertain our friends to dinner.
I remember one time when we were out somewhere one evening and one of our colleagues introduced her to his wife who was asking who she was. He said, “This is Iris, Mrs ****.” That really made her day!
I’ve mentioned before that Iris lived in an old house that she had lived in most of her life from being about eighteen. It hadn’t been modernised and still had an old coal-burning hearth in the living room. (This is why it featured so much in my poems!) One day, after seeing a friend’s bedroom, she suddenly wanted a change of décor on her own bedroom. I spent a weekend with her painting and papering the room and to my surprise, she got stuck in with a paintbrush and made an excellent job of it. We re-papered the walls, painted the doors and woodwork and I bought a fitted wardrobe, a dressing table and a new bed. Iris was in heaven over it and got the decorating bug that saw us virtually revamping the whole house. It took us from October to December to do it a bit at a time but she loved every minute that she was working on it. Truly a very typical housewife at last!