The mistress and master came home on St Patrick's Day wearing additional jewellery on their fingers.
She hadn't returned home the night before but my master hadn't been annoyed. At least not annoyed about that. He was still fuming because a faulty on-street parking meter had swallowed his money and when he phoned the helpline from his mobile to report it, he was thanked then told to buy another ticket from another machine or risk a fine. No refund, pay twice AND he was charged for the phone call. Triple daylight robbery!
So it turned out those rings signified that the master and mistress were now married. I hadn't realised I was living with sinners. Or that I had been rehomed out of wedlock. Not that anything seemed any different. We still travelled up to the cabin that evening. I enjoyed a sunbathe behind the window the next day then a walk in the forest. It was only when we came home again I realised marriage meant trees had to die.
'Congratulations' cards, wrapping paper, gift boxes. there was paper everywhere. For every card they received another had to be returned to thank the sender of the original card. Another tree gone. And all this from a secret wedding. What if it had been bigger? There would have been invitations and invitation replies and hymn sheets and confetti. Don't start me on confetti! Trees destroyed to throw over people to make it look like tree blossom or snow? What is the point in that? Littering: that's what that is. You get fined for littering but one little marriage licence and the world forgives you. I think all confetti should be made from recycled marriage licences from divorcees or banned altogether. Unless it was edible. Then I would love to live near Park Circus Registration Office.