Sweet Surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

obstacles – fallen branches or large dog bones – and pack away any hoses that might get tangled in the mower’s blades. When it’s all set to go, David strides out in his protective gear and proceeds with the task at hand. He is meticulous and does a wonderful job but it’s all a bit of a gala performance. When he’s finished, I clean the tractor down, blowing the loose grass away with a compressor, then park it back in the shed until next time.
    But to be completely fair to him, David has embraced a lot of the chores I used to do when the children were growing up. Shopping is just one example. He seems to love cruising the supermarket aisles looking for bargains, comparing weights and prices and brands. I have always shopped on the run, without a list and throwing items into the trolley at whim. He loves being in charge of an orderly, planned shopping trip, and carefully unpacks everything when he gets it home. The pantry is always well-stocked.
    I divide my day between gardening, cooking and writing. David does all his emails and work phone calls in the morning and then spends the afternoon in Bathurst doing the shopping and going to the gym. He has type 2 diabetes and needs to exercise frequently to keep his condition under control. When he returns home from town he tends to wander back to his office and his computer, and he gets so caught up that I sometimes feel he’s forgotten I’m there at all. I send an email from my computer to his:
Do you remember me? I’m that red-headed woman on the other side of the house and I feel like a gin and tonic.
He emerges, smiling, and we share a drink before dinner and the evening news.
    I try my best to introduce a little fun into our quiet life. I insist that we have a meal out from time to time, although it’s a struggle because he claims to prefer home-cooked meals to those served in restaurants. Luckily, we both love the local Chinese restaurant and there are also a few interesting cafes in town where we can take a bottle of wine. I keep my eye out for good movies coming to our local cinema, and for the plays and concerts that often tour up from Sydney to Bathurst’s excellent entertainment centre. I have to push for these outings because, like a lot of men in his age group, David has become more of a homebody in his later years. He’d rather sit near the fire watching his favourite television series than make the effort to go out. I tend to force him.
    I expect our life together and our relationship is not that different from those of other couples who have been together for more than thirty-five years. We are both still working and active, and we travel alot – usually going our own separate ways – but our lifestyle at home is very settled, and to others it may even appear rather boring at times. In essence, we are trying to get on with enjoying life, even though we have had our difficulties and sadnesses. The same as most people.

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    â€˜I want to grow old without facelifts . . . I want to have the courage to be loyal to the face I’ve made.’
    â€”Marilyn Monroe
    These words – so bravely spoken, but so sad to read now – sum up how most younger women feel about cosmetic surgery. When your face is still smooth and line-free, you have absolutely no idea how you will feel when the first major signs of ageing appear. Poor Marilyn never had the chance to live to a ripe old age, and we will never know how she would have looked at sixty or seventy had she stuck to her guns and resisted plastic surgery.
    When I was younger I felt exactly the same way as she did. I was critical of women who felt so insecure about themselves that they would submit to the surgeon’s knife in order to cling to their fading youth and beauty. I had read Germaine Greer and was a big fan of her take on how women had been manipulated by the male-dominated medical profession and the pharmaceutical and cosmetic industries. My