When I finished uni the first time I was broke so I went to live with my mum and dad for a while. I liked a drink but the lack of money limited my options so I used to go with my dad to his local quite often. My now husband had come to the UK to work, our area had a lot of factories, farms etc and a lot of gangmasters who weren't interested in pesky things like visas and work permits, which my husband didn't have (pre EU expansion, we were members then, his home country was not) so he had ended up there. Someone had brought him into my dad's local at some point so he was a regular there. We were almost the only regulars under 35 at that time, got talking, flirted a lot for a few months, I lost £50 to him on a football bet, he started calling me "my lovely fifty quid", we went out on a date, six weeks later we moved in together. My friends thought it was hilarious, I was the last one out of all of us anyone expected to fall in love and settle down and have babies and so on, I was all about the casual encounters and not planning life and avoiding domesticity and commitment but I fell for him so, so hard. My Polish was non existent and his English limited to building site slang and what he had picked up from films, when I think back to those first few months it is a lovely memory of just being head over heels, often confused but really, really bowled over by how it felt to find someone I wanted to be with forever.