Fight For Your Dream (5 page)

Married Bliss?

After being together for seven-and-a-half years, and being at the age of twenty-four years, my day did come at last.

On 18
th
June 1988 we were married, on a beautiful warm, sunny day, in St Oswald's church on Bannerdale Road. I was now Mrs Sharp, and it felt fantastic! It was what all brides dream of on their big day: perfect. The reception took place at Baldwin's Omega and, as we were driven to our venue in the open top vintage Rolls Royce, people waved to us, shouting congratulations. It was our local Ecclesall garden party, and the pavements were full of people leaving the event. The traffic was slow, which meant that we could enjoy the moment, and soak up the atmosphere of the day.

The first night was in our marital home, which was 154a Dobcroft Road, Ecclesall, Sheffield. After two years of building our home, it felt quite surreal to be carried over the threshold in my wedding dress, veil draped over my arm. ‘Well, here goes then, stairs next,' said Nigel, taking in a deep breath. It's not that I was a heavy weight back then; in fact I only weighed 8stone 21b, but the house was open plan. So much so, that in the rush to move in for our wedding night, we had not had the time to secure the handrail. The higher we climbed up to our bedroom, the longer the drop would have been if Nigel had lost his footing. After all, everybody has a few drinks on their wedding day, and so probably not quite as compos mentis as one would normally be, Nigel and I being no exception. Once outside our bedroom door, we'd made it safely...or so we thought!

‘The door's jammed!' I exclaimed turning to Nigel.

‘What? Can't be!' said Nigel, as he put his hand around the brass door knob, and pushed his shoulder against the door. Nigel's weight forced open the door to the sound of bangs and loud consecutive pops. What on earth was happening?...

Then, all was revealed. Our bedroom had obviously been hijacked! It was crammed full of different coloured balloons, that Nigel was inadvertently popping as he fell into the bedroom. At first we were stunned, and I just stared at the mass of balloons that engulfed Nigel as he grovelled around on the blue carpet that had been fitted only four days previously. As Nigel struggled to compose himself, I began to see the funny side of our little ordeal, and burst into hysterical laughter. Here was I, in my posh wedding dress, diamante headdress and 10ft veil, watching my husband of 11 hours rolling around on a sea of coloured balloons in top hat and tails..., how bizarre was that?

Either an individual, or a number of people were intent on making our wedding night a night to remember, and we had our suspicions! It was courtesy of MARK & SUE: thanks, folks!

Day one of married life started off as eventful as the previous evening. We'd spent all the money we'd accumulated on building our love nest, so had very little spare cash to go away on a honeymoon, let alone to somewhere exotic, like couples manage to do today. After all the hard work we'd endured building our house, Nigel was adamant that we went away for a few days for a little peace and relaxation. Both of us loved North Wales, which we had visited several times throughout our time together. A few weeks before we were due to marry, Nigel informed me that he had made a booking reservation for our honeymoon. It was for a four-night stay at an idyllic location, the ‘Tyne Cornel Hotel', overlooking Tally Lynches Lake.

It was really strange, waking up in our new home the morning after our wedding day. It had taken us two years of hard graft to get here, but we'd finally made it. Yesterday morning I was Miss Elaine Allen, and today I was Mrs Elaine Sharp. This was going to take some getting used to. To start the day I decided that a relaxing, hot bath was just what I needed. However, it didn't quite turn out as planned. The run up to our wedding day, like most weddings, had been fraught. Trying to complete the house to a reasonable standard to move in prevented us having the time to flush through the plumbing system for a test run. Great! No matter how much water I ran, I never managed to maintain a clean run of fresh water. ‘I think it's cleared,' I shouted to Nigel, who was still prostrate in bed. ‘Oh, good,' he laughed, ‘I'll jump in after you then.' No such luck: just when I thought it was safe to get into the water, the tap coughed and spluttered out another dollop of green flux! ‘Oh, well, there's a first time for everything, I thought, and climbed into the bath anyway.

One hour later, to our surprise, Mark and Sue arrived with a bottle of Champagne and orange juice. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny morning, and the bucks fizz went down a treat.

When we arrived at the hotel, it was still as good as we'd remembered. A great addition to the facilities was a swimming pool that had just been completed. The weather was as good in Wales as when we had left home a few hours earlier, so we made the most of the welcoming, cool pool, and both had a quick dip before getting showered for dinner. Wow, married life seemed pretty good! Wales is very well known for having a great deal of cold, wet weather, but it seems the gods must having been watching over us, because we were blessed with blue skies for the whole of our stay. In fact, the weather was so good that we decided to delay our departure and stay at the hotel until late afternoon, so we could soak up the sun for a few more hours. Big mistake! Driving home that evening, Nigel looked decidedly ill, he was turning a lighter shade of pale by the minute. It could only mean one thing: sunstroke! Five days of marriage, and my wedding vows were about to swing in to action... ‘In sickness and in health'.

Although Nigel and I were very much in love with each other, neither of us found the transition to marriage very easy. We had both lived at home up until getting married (although I did spend many nights staying at Nigel's mum and dad's) so, unlike many other couples of our age, we had never lived together. Nigel's mum used to smile and say, ‘You know you're out of vogue not living together first.'

Yes we were, and that's just the way I wanted it. Not that I'm a prude or anything, but the idea of living together before marriage never really appealed to me, nor Nigel, for that matter. When one leaves one's family home, it's a massive adjustment to make, and both Nigel and I had a very warm, loving relationship with both our parents. It was tough, and I don't mind admitting that we had our fair share of arguments. Both of us would test the other, to see just how far we could push one another, before the other one would snap. I can remember, in particular, our first Christmas, six months into married life. Our mums and dads, along with Nigel's only aunty, were spending Christmas Day with us. I was cooking my first Christmas dinner, and I felt slightly nervous. Both of us were working full time, and as such we'd worked right up until Christmas Eve lunchtime.

I decided that I would prepare as much as possible that evening, so I wouldn't be left with so much to do on Christmas Day; then I could enjoy the festivities along with everyone else. As with some best laid plans, they don't always go as intended, and this evening was no exception. I became stressed about something as ridiculous as mince pies! I had been making mince pies for years. Why now were my pastry making skills deserting me? Well, for whatever reason, they were. Every time I tried to roll out the pastry, it just kept breaking up. Every time it happened, I got more and more frustrated. After mixing up five separate lots of different pastry, I was beginning to tear my hair out. By the time I'd done, I looked like an irate flour grader, and the kitchen looked like I'd whitewashed the walls with flour! Poor Nigel: I'm afraid he drew the short straw, and ended up with the wrath of my temper. By trying to offer me his advice, I took my anger out on him. Eventually, he got cross and I stormed upstairs in tears and locked myself in the bathroom.

Ooops, first rule of marriage... quit while you're ahead. Thirty seconds later Nigel was banging on the door asking why I was shouting at him. ‘Elaine, this is stupid, they're mince pies for God's sake!' In desperation to reason with me, he banged on the door with such force that the bathroom door, complete with architrave, came falling in towards me. There was I, sat on the toilet seat crying when Nigel made his grand entrance. He was beginning to make a habit of falling in through doors, I thought. We were both so surprised at what had just taken place. Still sat on the throne, I glared at Nigel in silence. Nigel shook his head to regain his composure, and raised his eyes in my direction like a little, lost puppy. What a crazy scenario, we stared at each other and burst into laughter. Oh, bloody hell, now we'd got to repair the door! Fortunately, peace was restored, and Christmas Day went off without any hitches. A great day was had by all.

Boating and Juliet

We had many happy years whilst living at ‘Dobo', as we fondly used to call it. However, we also had difficult times. One month before were due to celebrate our first wedding anniversary, I found myself admitted into the infectious diseases ward at the old Lodge Moor Hospital. I've always struggled trying to keep weight on, so because of this Nigel has always encouraged me to eat food that will help me put weight on. Cream, off the top of the milk, was one of those and, although I don't like fatty meat or butter, I do like cream. So, every morning when we had our cereal, Nigel always sacrificed the cream off the top our milk so that I could have it. Unfortunately, we didn't take into account that when our milk bottle tops had been pecked at by the birds they were infecting it with campylobacter, and yes, you guessed, they were infecting me too!

It was really quite frightening at how quickly I deteriorated once the bug had got hold. Within a few days it had completely taken me off my feet, and my weight loss was dramatic. It took sometime for the lab to culture the bug; hence a two week stay in hospital, courtesy of Lodge Moor. Recovery was slow, which meant I had about six weeks off work before I was well enough to resume my normal ‘day job'. The only good result was that Nigel had booked a surprise weekend away in Harrogate to celebrate our 1
st
wedding anniversary, which he presented me with a couple of days before. We had a fantastic weekend and still to this day go up to Harrogate to celebrate our wedding anniversary.

One year on, and we were settling in to married life very comfortably. We'd done the silly squabbles and heated arguments, testing how far we could push each other, and now married life was becoming married bliss.

Around this time I was eager to find a hobby that we could both share and enjoy together. Although I very rarely compete these days, at that time I still maintained my fitness with my first love, running. I was still running around 30 to 40 miles a week, which I found relaxing after a bad day at work. Sometimes I would come home, change out of my smart work clothes, put on my shorts, T-shirt and trainers, and just run for miles. It was my way of relaxing and feeling inner peace. Nigel, on the other hand, did not enjoy sport in general. Sorry: correction: he did enjoy motor sport, competing himself in his younger days, and was an avid follower of the World Rally Championship. Every November we would travel to North Yorkshire, or wherever the secret stages were being held, and follow the rally. Some were night stages, which were absolutely fantastic.

However, what sport/hobby could we do together? I had mused on this subject before, but never really came up with any inspiration until one day, whilst on my lunch hour, I was wandering around in W H Smith. I always looked at the magazines in the sports section, and often made a purchase, so I had something to read back in the office whilst nibbling on a sandwich. This particular day my gaze became fixed on a magazine called ‘Practical Boat Owner'. As I thumbed through the pages I can remember thinking that this could be a sport/hobby that we could participate in together: a joint interest. Yeah, this could really work! Nigel had owned a very small speed boat, along with a friend, when I first met him. In fact one year, at the age of 19, they towed the boat (named Skua) on the back of Nigel's RS 2000 to the South of France. I was becoming increasingly excited, when I glanced at my watch and realised that I had been flicking through the pages for the past 15 minutes, and if I didn't hurry up and buy the mag., I was going to be late back to work. Decision made, I hurriedly made my purchase. That afternoon I couldn't wait to finish work so that I could get home to talk to Nigel about my idea.

‘Sailing: are you sure?' he smiled, as he looked down at the magazine. ‘I didn't know you liked boats'.

‘Well, I've never sailed before, so I don't know if I do, but there's only one why to find out,' I replied.

‘How do you mean? What do you suggest?' he grinned.

With hands on hips, I grinned back and replied, ‘Well, if you look in the index, there's a section advertising Sail Training Schools. Why don't we give them a ring, book on a week's course, and give it a go? There's a place called, “The Westerly Sea School.” They look quite good.'

‘Listen to you,' he laughed, ‘someone's being doing their homework.'

Two days later I'd rung the sea school, organised a week off work, and booked the 5-day ‘competent crew' course for two people. Bound for sea we were, in Milford Haven.

To pardon the pun I was hooked, line and sinker. Sailing was definitely for me. In fact I found I had quite a strong stomach for life on the ocean waves. If you've ever been sea-sick you'll know exactly what I mean! All we had to do now was find a boat to buy!

We had very limited resources, though, only one year into marriage. We had ploughed every ounce of cash into building ‘Dobo', and had nothing left to spare. However, every cloud has a silver lining and, as luck would have it, one of ours did, in the form of a small investment I had being paying into since starting work. It was due to come to fruition, and what better use to put it to than investing in our very first boat? The boating bug had bitten and I was smitten, much to Nigel's delight.

Our search ended in the Lake District. She was a basic little sail boat (boats are always female, in case you didn't know), with a fair bit of work to do on her before she would be sea worthy, known in the trade as an ‘unfinished project'; but she was all we could afford. We were not shy of work, and we were prepared to put in the hard graft to get her up to scratch before we could launch her. As Nigel's dad would say, ‘You only get out of life what you put into it.' Crikey, did we work! Every spare minute we had, we spent working on her. Both of us wanted to get out on the water as soon as we could, and the only way to do that was by putting the work in. Every evening after work, every weekend: we were spurred on with the thought that we were nearing the day when she would be finished.

Several months later, and we were ready. We had secured a berth at Kingston-upon-Hull in the new Marina, in the King George dock. Watching the massive boat hoist lift her off the trailer and into the water is something I will never forget. All the emotions that had been building up throughout the past months were now able to flow out. It was a proud moment, and yet another sense of achievement for both of us. We'd completed her together. Nigel does not show his emotions outwardly and, like his mum, doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, but what I will always remember is turning towards Nigel to see a very emotional man. Tears running down his face, as she was placed in the water. If that's not a sense of pride and achievement, I don't know what is!

‘Juliet' was born! We named her ‘Juliet' because, as two young people falling in love, ‘our tune' was Dire Straits number one hit single ‘Romeo and Juliet'.