For our first anniversary, I bought my husband a dress watch. He didn’t realise gifts were necessary and did a clumsy job of covering up his mistake by presenting me with the day’s newspaper (for our ‘Paper’ anniversary). This didn’t wash with me.
So on the second year, I got him diddly squat, whereas he bought me a car.
For the third, I upped my game and took him to Paris for the weekend. He bought me an ironing board.
On the fourth, I retaliated with a pair of socks. He took me to the Ritz.
Neither of us showed our hand on the fifth anniversary; we both bought each other nothing.
The sixth saw a cautious return to form with an ipod from me and a spa day from him.
This leaves us in a tricky position for the seventh. He’s been very secretive lately, I know he’s got me something big. Unfortunately, for him he’s going to be totally out-trumped again because I’m giving him something very special that money can’t buy – I’m growing it myself.