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Michele ACourt - How We Met

Here you can read online Michele ACourt - How We Met full text of the book (entire story) in english for free. Download pdf and epub, get meaning, cover and reviews about this ebook. year: 2018, publisher: HarperCollins, genre: Home and family. Description of the work, (preface) as well as reviews are available. Best literature library LitArk.com created for fans of good reading and offers a wide selection of genres:

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Michele ACourt How We Met

How We Met: summary, description and annotation

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Stand-up comedian Michele ACourt rekindles the passion, with a brilliant collection of How We Met stories.

How We Met is based on a collection of How We Met stories - those lovely stories couples love to tell (and we all love to hear) about how they got together. The authors theory: that these stories of how couples meet - the romantic, absurd, serendipitous, convoluted, scandalous, breath-taking moments of connection - help to weave their lives together. Partly as proof that they were meant to begin this couple-journey, and also because in each retelling they go back to those first falling-in-love feelings and rekindle the passion.

The theory is based on a hunch, which itself is based on nothingmore than the authors observations of watching couples as they talk. Michele then tests her thesis out on a neuroscientist and a psychologist, and by the end of the book, has some useful things to say not only about how great love starts,but how it stays great.

Michele ACourt: author's other books


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Contents Guide For Jeremy Pleased I met you And for my parents Donna - photo 1

Contents

Guide

For Jeremy.

(Pleased I met you.)

And for my parents, Donna and John.

(Pleased you met.)

ITS THE QUESTION EVERYONE gets around to asking a couple eventually. What brought you together? How did you find each other? Where does the story of the two of you begin? In the right moment with the right people, you get to sit back and hear a heartwarming tale about how two humans discovered each other. And if you are watching carefully as they tell it taking turns, laughing together, adding their favourite details it might occur to you that if you want to see two people at their best and closest, ask them to describe the moment they fell in love.

Which is exactly how this book started. One story told over dinner in July 2015 by a pair of friends wed known for a while, about how they had fallen for each other 19 years before. I watched them sparkle as they told a tale that starred the two of them, and I swear it was like watching them fall in love again. And suddenly that night, a big shiny universal theory hit me quite hard: these stories we all adore about how couples meet the romantic, absurd, serendipitous, convoluted, scandalous, breath-taking moments of connection help to weave our lives together. Partly as proof that we were meant to begin this couple-journey, and also because in each retelling we go back to those first falling-in-love feelings and rekindle the passion.

Here, at the beginning, my theory is based on a hunch, which itself is based on nothing more than my observations of couples as they talk. Im keen to ask as many couples as I can if my wild theory resonates with them to run it up a metaphorical flagpole and see who salutes; and I will hold it in the back of my mind as I watch their faces and listen to their voices. I also want to try out my crazy thesis on a neuroscientist and a psychologist. And, by the end of the book, I hope to have some useful things to say not only about the ways great love starts, but how it stays great.

Telling these stories is, Id argue, not just good for the people in the stories, but also good for all of us to hear. For a start, theyre gorgeous little vignettes, complete in themselves from once upon a time to happily ever after. And weve been gobbling up falling-in-love stories since the dawn of time from movies, books and songs right back through fairy tales, chronicles, legends and myths. They give us hope that theyll happen to us, or affirm that theyve already happened to us.

Amid the chaos of living on a planet with 7 billion people, they suggest there might be sufficient magic floating around for us to find the one person we truly belong with, our One In Particular. Or at least (hello, cynics) to find a person with whom we can happily keep weaving our life together for as long as we both want.

THERE IS A THEORY that you meet the right person only when you stop looking for them. I cant say thats entirely true, but I do think you often find the best ideas when youre not looking for them. Empty your head, make a space, and something lovely turns up.

It is the middle of winter at home in New Zealand, and so my husband, Jeremy, and I have run off to Rarotonga for a few days to Stop Thinking. My brain is fried from writing and touring, so weve given ourselves five days to disconnect no emails, no newspapers, no writing, no deadlines, no planning. Just swimming with the fishes, whale-spotting from the shoreline, and afternoon cocktails. Sometimes I sit with a thoroughly good book in my lap for several hours without turning a page. My single goal is to perfect my ability to float a cocktail a game Id invented there six months earlier, where you sit yourself waist-deep in the lagoon, plop a large glass filled with some kind of fruity, boozy concoction into the water in front of you, let it find its equilibrium, and then drink it very slowly through a straw without using your hands. It isnt necessarily going well the wind is up and the waves make it hazardous. But everyone needs a project, and this is mine.

The only other thing I am prepared to commit to is dinner at The Waterline, our favourite beachside bar and grill. Sunset here feels like a show. People stop talking to watch it.

Tradition has it that this dinner will be with Ian and Clare, an English couple who have lived on the island since 2007. Wed first met them five years earlier at this exact spot two pairs of strangers then, seated at separate tables. But by the end of that evening wed all bonded over great food, lashings of booze, and the late-night jam session it had morphed into. Tama, the son of The Waterlines owner, Chris, provides the official musical entertainment, but at some point the local diners had insisted that Chris get his guitar out, too. Then it turned out that Ian plays guitar, and Jeremy always has a mouth-harp in his pocket, and they all knew the same songs. So Ian had pitched in, and Jeremy joined them, and everyone sang a few, and delightful mayhem ensued. The quiet diners drifted off, more wine was bought, and it evolved into a party. Which is how we first got talking to Ian and Clare.

More random encounters: it seemed that every time we visited the island we would bump into Ian and Clare the Fates were throwing us together. No matter what time of year we went, or which night we picked for dinner at The Waterline, there they would be we couldnt tell who was stalking whom, but we all found it hilarious. The guitars and harmonicas would come out, and we were always the last to leave the bar. Eventually, we swapped contact details, so by the time we were having dinner in July 2015, a booking had been made specifically for our party of four.

And then, five years after we first met, in a natural lull between the steak (house speciality) and the jam session (guest speciality), I asked the inevitable question: So, how did you two meet? Together, they told this hilarious yarn about Clare falling down a hole in a kebab shop; and they laughed, and we laughed, and they took turns to tell different bits, and finished each others sentences, and it was highly entertaining and made all of us feel good about the world.

And then I said, Thats a great story! I love hearing stories like that. Someone should write a book about those kinds of stories. And we all agreed, and then the three of them looked at me, and I thought about it for a minute and said, Okay, I will then. And here we are.

IAN WAS 22 YEARS OLD and Clare was 24 when they went out for a kebab in Derby, England. Clare is a tiny slip of a thing, and Ian is a tall man built like a whippet. To fill in the gaps of my own hazy memories from our dinner at The Waterline, I asked Clare and Ian Wheeldon to tell me their story again. They waited until the end of their working week, went home and opened a bottle of wine, and then Ian sent this email from Rarotonga.

Clare and I knew each other from the club I used to DJ in, The Blue Note in Derby. Clare was the Indie Kid, and I was a Crusty who all her friends frowned at. Years go by with lots of flirting when Clare wanted her songs played. Eventually Clare ends up working behind the bar. So lots more flirting.

Friday, 24 May 1996

8.30pm

I was playing in a rubbish band and had a gig at a local bar. Clare had her friend visiting from Manchester, and dragged the poor bugger along to see us. Lets be clear: Clare was not at all interested in the band. After the gig, I invited them both back to my house to have a few vodkas and meet the pet snakes and the cat.

10.00pm

After several drinks at my house we all headed out to the local nightclub. Neither of us actually remembers what happened to Clares friend, Bruce. We do know we ended up sitting on the edge of a dirty dancefloor, snogging.

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