horse dovers

The husband and I were lying in bed last night, him reading his book and me almost passed out.  I heard this little snicker, and I felt him giggling.  I rolled over and looked at him quizzically, then asked what he was laughing at.

“Hors d’oeuvres.” he snickered

On our first wedding anniversary in 2010, he spoilt me by taking me to a rather nice restaurant in the heart of Durban, called the Roma Revolving Restaurant.  As you dine, the restaurant rotates 360°, giving you the diner, a fantastic view of Durban and her harbour, which is especially gorgeous in the evening.  As we were looking through the menu, my husband so genuinely asked me what horse dovers were.  I looked at him, cocked my head to the side and blatantly went HUH?!  Horse dovers he repeated.  Horse dovers.  Ok, horse dovers.  I opened my menu to the page that he was on, and instantly burst out laughing.

Horse dovers = hors d’oeuvres

My husband does not have the best grasp of the English language;  his spelling and grammar is atrocious, and his idioms are the things of a great comedy, but that night will forever remain etched in our memories as a good night, a good memory.

Sometimes it really is the little, silly things that remind you of the bigger things that you should be grateful for.

G

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