I probably don’t talk about John as much as I should on this blog. Sometimes I get caught up in the ecstatic dancing and the freakdom here in Ubud and my attention wanders.  It is about us living here but I don’t like tarring him with my judgmental, opinionated, piss taking brush so I tend to leave him out of many of my diatribes. Because he’s a much nicer more balanced person than I am. His mother would undoubtedly agree.

Which means that other than the odd reference to John’s raised eyebrows in response to my above mentioned judgement calls and the occasional bear story, he’s perhaps not as visible as he is in real life, in this story of moving abroad.

So I want to rectify a few things.

My husband John is not just the best looking man on the planet (he really is rather especially gorgeous) he’s also one of the best men on the planet. He can’t multi task and he’s spending rather too much time playing air hockey on the ipod and despite what he says I’m definitely the better drive but he’s the one whose belief in the power of outrageous potential brought us all this way. He’s the one who kept me sane over and over again when I used to ask him ‘are we insane?’

He’s the one who has hustled and fought and worked to bring in the money that we can keep living in servanted up bliss whilst we wait for my advance to trickle through.

He’s the man who loves me despite my melt downs. And today is our 9 year anniversary and I wanted to say that I can only live where you are John Alderson.

Now go ahead and puke.

 

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