I was three months out from completing my gruelling PhD, and had been told my lease would not be renewed. I therefore had to move all my stuff to new accommodation, a massive inconvenience as I tried to juggle last-minute experiments and writing a 200-page thesis. Little did I know that this move would change my life immeasurably, and propel it in an entirely unexpected, joyful and loving direction.

I had barely unpacked my boxes when Allison moved onto my floor. I had just shared a coffee with Stella Mwiti, a wonderful middle-aged Kenyan woman who (out of pity for me, I’m sure!) had decided she would become a second mother to me. Allison was a ray of sunshine as soon as she entered the room. I could tell immediately, from her broad grin and smiling eyes, that she was an American, from one of the warmer states. I immediately found her attractive but, thinking I would be moving back to Scotland fairly imminently, I didn’t allow myself to think that our paths would cross significantly. When Allison introduced herself, I mumbled my response (you would have thought that living in England for four years would have taught me to tone down my accent!).

“Oh, Alan? Pleased to meet you, Alan!” Allison greeted enthusiastically.

“Yes, pleased to meet you too,” I muttered, thinking I would correct her later, once I’d returned to my thesis and written a difficult paragraph that had been bugging me all morning.

“Not Alan, it’s Alasdair!” Stella exclaimed, making sure her son was understood.

It was a rather inauspicious start…

****

Fast-forward two weeks and I’d handed in my thesis. I showered. I shaved. I got my hair cut. I ate something other than pasta. I was a new man. The sun felt brighter. The grass looked greener. The birds sounded chirpier.

With this new lease of life, I had to make up for lost time. One of my first ideas was to suggest a zoo trip. So Allison, Tamanna (a newly-qualified Indian lawyer living on our floor who could give Allison a run for her money in any talking competition) and I visited Shepreth Wildlife Centre together. Somehow (SOMEHOW?!) Allison kept it together when we saw the capuchin monkeys swinging from their ropes and branches. She was trying to play it cool, not wanting to reveal her love (obsession?) with monkeys. Now I know her so much better, I’m in total awe at how she managed to hide that from me in those early days (although having said that, her and Tamanna did get a photo with a gorilla statue; I should have read the signs).

The moment when I knew I wanted to ask Allison out was Halloween 2021. Her and Tamanna had decided to play a prank on Stella, by playing a demonic voice and planting the recording in the kitchen. I wanted no part of it – I was afraid of my adopted mother, neither wanting to displease her nor incur her wrath. But the way Allison went about it all was just so...fun! I think her mischievous side really shone through as her and Tamanna set up that prank. Also, that night she wore a very short shirt – I think that helped too!

****

All that said, there was the small matter of me having to defend my thesis, on 15th November. I resolved to ask Allison out after that, and extended my lease up to 15th December, should it go anywhere. In hindsight, that was a pretty bold move!

Before that, there was one other memorable incident. Allison and her battle-buddy, Ken Rathje, a 50-odd year-old US army veteran with the heart and wanderlust of a 21-year-old, were going to a Ball organised by the Cambridge Clay Pigeon Shooting, Polo and Fox-Hunting Societies. As a working-class Scot, who’d been brought up to hate the very people who’d be going to this ball, and with a very good idea of what they’d be like, I’d had to bite my tongue very hard. Nevertheless, I got to see Allison in her beautiful black dress as she prepared to go, and was even entrusted to take a few photos. She looked stunning.

****

The defence went well – a truly pleasant experience with two academics I greatly respected – and I’d just celebrated over a pint in The Eagle with an old friend, Dan Lentell, and was about to enter Wesley House when I heard a voice calling from across the street.

“Well, if it isn’t Dr Keith?”

It was Allison! Just the person I’d wanted to see. Her beam shone so brightly.

She offered a congratulation, and we walked in together. That night, we shared a bottle of rum in the kitchen. Others drifted in and out, all offering their congratulations. But Allison and I were the nucleus. It was a wonderful night.

A few days later, I finally plucked up the courage to ask Allison out. Terrified of rejection, and with Brits naturally being a bit more reticent than Americans, I thought I’d do this in a rather casual, somewhat opaque way.

By this time, Allison had cultivated a reputation as a speedy responder to messages, both in group chats and privately. At 10am that Saturday, I sent a message, “Fancy a daunder down to the market?” Daunder is Scottish slang for a short, walk or amble, which has a mild romantic subtext. I was pulling out the big guns.

But I waited. And waited. And waited….and waited…………..and waited. Then, as the day went on, I began to lose more and more hope. How had I read the signs so wrong? I’d really thought she was into me.

It was about 11pm when Allison eventually replied. It had felt like an eternity. She suggested we do something the next day. Thinking she might just be taking pity on me after a harsh no throughout the day, I suggested a rather neutral activity of a light lunch and then Christmas shopping for our shared kitchen. In some ways, that suggestion was a success. We had a very nice day together. Although I think it just made things even more confused between us!

****

Eventually, I think Allison became impatient with the confusion. Now I know she is used to people being more forward (again, this is one of the main differences between the UK and US). After a night out at the pub with Ken, she came back to the kitchen, where I was washing my dishes, and literally told me she was flirting with me.

I was slightly alarmed. I mean, I was pleased with the sentiment. But I couldn’t let myself believe she wasn’t drunk. I had to make my excuses. I didn’t want to take advantage of someone when they were vulnerable.

I tried to be as polite as I could with my response. It was a fine line – validating what had just been said, whilst also trying to breeze past it. I DO NOT think I succeeded. I then announced I was turning in for the night, which was slightly comical as it was only about 8.30.

Once back in my room, I phoned my brother immediately, to ask him:

“Martin, what exactly does it mean when a woman tells you she’s literally flirting with you?”

The response: “Alasdair, you’re an idiot.”

****

The rest of that night, I wanted to speak to Allison, but I kept on missing her in the kitchen (no doubt because she was trying to avoid me!). Eventually, giving up, I went on a VERY long walk around Cambridge. It’s a pretty city at night, especially in late-November. The old brick houses look almost Dickensian. The college quads look Shakespearian. But all I could think of was Allison.

****

The next day, Ken came to the rescue. He’d locked himself out his room, and left his phone in there. I therefore had to phone security for an extra set of keys, and the two of us waited and chatted in the kitchen. I was therefore there all morning, so Allison couldn’t really avoid me. Eventually, she appeared, and Ken made a judicious exit. My heart was pounding, especially as Allison came to sit at the table, just round the corner from me. We could hardly look at one another. Her eyes were sparkling, as they often do, but I think this time it was mainly fear.

“About last night, and what I said…” she tentatively began.

“When you said you were flirting with me?” I asked, making sure we were talking about the same thing.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that.”

“No, I’m the one who should be apologising to you,” I said gently. “Because, you know, I’ve been doing the same with you.”

Allison looked up, into my eyes, for the first time since she’d first entered the room. Her eyes were still sparkling.

I thought to myself, this is it. You must show her how you really feel.

So I reached across the table and kissed Allison on her lips.

“I hope that clears things up for you,” I said.

It’s probably the smoothest thing I’ve ever said or done.

I’ve never looked back.

Indeed, Allison makes me look forward to every day.

Allison, we both took risks at the start of this relationship. But ‘I feel like we fell out of a lucky tree, hit every branch on the way down, and ended up in a pool full of cash and Sour Patch Kids.’

I can’t believe how lucky I am to be marrying you, the love of my life. My soulmate.

Registry