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Five years ago today, around 7.30pm, I got in my car to head into Birmingham for a meeting at 8pm.

I left the house and as I pulled on to the motorway all I saw was brake lights suddenly coming on. Too late to change direction I carried on hoping that it would soon move on.

My phone rang and it was one of my bosses.

“There’s been an accident on the 42, a coach or something, your house is only five minutes away from the scene. Can you get down there and take some pictures and have your phone ready to go on air if need be,” blurted the voice before I could say much.
“Erm… no,” I replied.
“What?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I’m on my way out.”
“But…”
“No.”
“Is it somewhere special?”
“It’s a date.”
“Oh come on, just do this and you can meet your date later.”
“No. I’m already going to be late because of this accident, I’m already on the 42 and stuck in the traffic caused by it.”
“If you’re already on the 42 you can do it!”
“I have no camera.”
“Well at least go and find out what’s going on and be on stand-by!”
“No. Goodbye”

Sat there in the traffic I sent a text…

Am stuck in traffic. Will be about 30mins late. Sorry.

The reply came…

Am stuck on bus. Will be about 30mins late. Sorry.

Fate, it would appear, had made us both late.

It turned out the coach accident was in-between the exit and entrance of junction 10 so the police we directing people off the motorway, around the island, then back on to the motorway.

Around 8.30pm, 30 minutes late, I walked into the bar and sat there, all on his own but with two pints, was Brad.

He looked lovely.

We spent the night chatting about many different things.

I spent the night staring at the fag machine as I was on one of my (now successful) ”I’m going to quit smoking” drives.

At 11.30pm as we left the pub I offered him a lift home, which he accepted.

We pulled up outside his place and he asked me in for coffee.

Seven coffees later saw us at 5am and time for me to go home. And yes, it was seven coffees… and nothing else! (I mean that in a good way as I’d been given orders from a friend not to hop on the good foot and do the bad thing for at least two weeks!)

I said goodbye, said I’d call him and left.

A few minutes later (and he’ll deny this!) I got a text…

You didn’t have to leave

I replied with…

I’ve not got far, I could come back.

He replied with…

One ring me when you’re outside and I’ll come down and let you in.

He lived in a flat above his cousin’s nursery at the time, hence the coming down and letting me in.

I stayed over that night… nothing happened… but suffice to say the rest is history.

Until we moved to Wales in the August of the following year we spent only two nights apart and both of those were in the first four weeks of being together.

Happy anniversary Brad.

I love you.