When we met, she was a windsurfing nurse living in London, and I was a postgrad student in Glasgow. Whenever possible I would wangle a university travel grant for research (windsurfing) in England, and we would drive to Ronnie Scott's in her 2CV.
The following year, I succeeded in coaxing Angie up to Scotland to live. She was crestfallen when the palm trees that I'd promised her turned out to be a few stunted specimens at the southerly tip of Arran, but by then there was no going back. The poor woman never recovered from the disappointment - she had envisaged something more balmy, like our first trip to the UnHeard Of and McDonald Islands.
After a year together in Scotland, we decided to call it a day. But then just a week before our planned drive to Heathrow for her plane to a new life in Sydney, I got the Big F'ing C and checked into hospital, but that's another story. Angie cashed in her air ticket, bless her. We stayed together for another 4 years, spending the odd evening at the Glasgow Buddhist Centre, where the next photo was taken.
There are more pictures of Angie in London soon after we met, and four years later in Greece. And there's another shot of Angie with Seb against the buddha wall.
