I soon started to realise that my husband was actually turning into a vicar before my very eyes. It was the gardening that first gave it away. He was given a greenhouse and he bought seeds and compost and then he dug a big part of the garden to make a vegetable patch. This was closely followed by a magazine subscription to 'Gardener's World'. OMG! His mum and dad would visit and the three of them would walk around the garden together discussing the individual plants. It was only a normal garden and it didn't change much between their weekly visits in my ignorant eyes but this is the first thing they'd do each and every time whilst I made them a 'nice' pot of tea - what they didn't know was that I am the world's worst tea in a pot maker. If the tea came out far too weak I would simply grab an extra tea bag and squeeze it in their cups after the milk was in. What they didn't know and all that! Other signs were being cross if I swore or blasphemed, he was so grumpy about it I had to make a big effort to stop altogether. He also wore slippers, not trendy ones but clarks old man ones with fluff inside. I threw those away quite quickly and got him moccasins instead - a wife has to be helpful where she can. Now it's not as though I am against gardening or slippers per se but you must remember that he was only just 33 when this began and I was 22.
I was desperate to build up a social life that was nothing to do with the church. My friends were from the mother and baby groups and one lady was organising a fund raising event for the disabled children's playground. I bought tickets and we were part of a table of ten. It was a lively evening with a quiz, food and lots of booze and laughter. It was definitely the best fun I'd had since we'd moved to the vicarage. So, was my husband also having a good time? Was he heck! Half way through the evening in a rude loud voice he said to me across the table - "What are we doing here? I would rather just have given the money and not come." That is really my first memory of thinking 'Oh my god, who have I married?'
Saturday social events were common where we lived, either with the children during the day or during the evening without. Everybody went as a couple. Except me. Daytime events were excused with either a wedding (fair enough) or preparation for church the next day. Evenings were avoided because of preparation for the morning, even if actually he sat in front of the TV. I became embarrassed about making up excuse after excuse for him. I continuously covered up the fact that he was just unsociable and didn't like their company. I didn't want to go on my own all the time and soon it was easier for me to not go either. The invitations soon dried up because we were clearly not part of the 'in' crowd. I saw other families going off together out for the day or even camping for the weekend. We couldn't do anything at the weekend as a family because it was just impossible to prepare for church on Friday rather than Saturday unless there was an important football or rugby match on the television, oh, or a church event!
I made a big effort I think. I went to things I hated all the time. Church being just one of them. Harvest lunch another. And how entertaining is it to have dinner with the bishop and a bunch of much older vicars and their wives? Not at all.
If friends or family came to us he would stay in his study for much of the time. When he did come into the living room where we were he'd think nothing of sitting in 'his' armchair and turning the television on. He had an amazing ability to just ignore what was going on around him. It makes me cringe to remember all that now.
