"It's my place tonight the folks are going out", I was calling Ian to let him know that we had a real treat, somewhere to go with a bed. We were wildly, madly passionately in love and a house to ourself was a real indulgence. As soon as the family had left we let ourselves in and went to my bedroom where we got into bed and put the light out. I also put the gas fire on as it was late September and the room was a bit cool. About an hour later I suddenly heard the from door bang and footsteps running up the stairs. We were both too shocked to move as my father came into the bedroom. He took a look, turned round, went back downstairs and drove back to my aunts.
It turned out that he had forgotten to take something and had seen the glow from the fire and had simply gone up to switch it off. Ian couldn't get out of the house fast enough and I stayed in my room and spent a sleepless night worrying about what was going to happen. The next morning my father said, "I think you better see a doctor," and left for work. It was never mentioned again. Needless to say Ian wouldn't come anywhere near the house, but a week before the New Year my father suddenly said at breakfast "We haven't seen Ian for ages, be sure and tell him he should be here for a drink at Hogmanay". I was stunned, I just couldn't believe what I was hearing. As you can imagine Ian was having kittens even thinking about it and was adamant that there was no way I'd get him in the house. But on the night, after a few drinks, we both took a deep breath and went in. My father went up in my estimation as he welcomed him like a long lost friend. We sent into the kitchen for a sly kiss and I said "It's time we found a place to live together." Then my father took the photo above.
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