It had been years, perhaps shifting into decades, since John and Marcie had treated themselves. Always excuses, Marcie remembered. No money being the most common, paying for schools, universities, mortgages, bills – living had soaked up all their cash, never any to spare.
Treats had been trips to the mall to stock up on M&S knickers and socks and perhaps indulge in a Costa coffee, even cake if the knickers had been on sale. Once, John had allowed her to take the kids to Bristol Zoo, a wild extravagance somewhat spoiled when he had forbidden ice cream as a step too far.
Now John had retired, the children were by and large independent, the house – to the children’s dissatisfaction – significantly downsized and the mortgage paid off, and suddenly there was a little to spend on themselves.
John proposed the idea and Marcie thought it over, carefully. She reflected on what her friends had done this past summer with their Ibiza holidays, French villas and fjord cruises, and decided that at 65 it was time they stretched themselves money-wise, did something wild and extravagant.
Why not? So she had agreed, and John had nodded solemnly and got everything organised.
Now she glanced at her husband lounging in the wide leather armchair, feet up, scotch in hand despite it being 11 in the morning.
‘Should have done this sooner.’ He beamed.
Marcie raised her gin and tonic, ice clinking, and blinked into the bright light which fell over John’s shoulder. ‘We should have. Great idea, John, just what we needed.’
John wriggled further into the seat while Marcie gazed at the litter of cardboard and foam strewn on the living room floor.
John’s beam widened. ‘A recliner each. You’re a lucky, spoiled woman, Marcie.’
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Way to go. Recliner each. Much better than an Ibiza holiday 😂
Probably, yes! Ibiza sounds terrible TBH