They were meaning to go for ages. This resulted in drawn-out arguments, temporary peace treaties. They hadn’t done it in, what, 7 years, and they were getting dangerously close to the moment when each time and year could be their last.
Despite the pouring rain, tedious in its predictability, this time they knew since early morning that they would go. Their movements were slow and shaky but also nervous and anxious. Their preparation lasted for several hours and culminated, later in the evening, in him finding her favourite umbrella and her kissing him on the cheek.
And then they finally went out, for the first time in so many years. They looked around, recognizing no one. In particular, they could not recognise those three American girls sitting near the piano. But never mind.
They ordered Guinness, like they always did.