1981 Paul and I were married in Luderitz, South West Africa. A wonderful day! When I was 12 my mother and stepfather-to-be were married. I'd been saying for the five months we'd lived together that they were married, but now, when someone said they were living in sin (people said these kind of things in 1957, and children like me took it to heart), I could put my hands on my hips and say, No they aren't, and it wouldn't be a lie. It was a bit problematic when a nosy neighbor, visiting our apartment, asked why there were so many flowers everywhere—even the bathtubs were filled with them. I wanted to tell her not to be such a busybody, instead I mumbled Anniversary and changed the subject. It has to be said that my mother's and my second marriage, count as one of the best decisions we ever made.