TODAY is a special day for my wife and me as it is our 29th wedding anniversary.

Or, as she is likely to say: “That’s exactly 29 years of putting up with you.” Charming.

So I should add that I have had my crosses to bear, too.

Only last week, while we were dining out with some friends, she uttered the dreaded words that make husbands everywhere wince.

“I’m not really very hungry,” she said, putting down the menu. “I’ll have some of yours.” No you won’t.

There was an awkward moment, during which my friend and I exchanged knowing and sympathetic looks.

“That’s the worst thing a woman can ever say to a man,” he said, and even his wife, who is a feminist, found herself nodding.

You would think that, after 29 years, the penny would have dropped.

When a man goes out for a meal, he does not order food so somebody else can eat it.

We are not savages. Way back in evolution, when homo sapiens became hunter-gatherers, men were no doubt given the job of sharing the food among the rest of the tribe, but I hardly think the same applies down the Red Lion.

If this was an isolated incident, I could overlook it, but it isn’t. In fact, there is a growing trend towards people sharing food when they are out, and this needs to be stamped out.

A pub that we recently went to had nachos on the menu, and you could choose a standard portion or one to share. Other people in the restaurant chose the sharing option. Guess which we chose. This kind of thing is even worse in Indian restaurants. I have noticed that, over the years, it has become a bit of a tradition for two ladies in the party to strike up an alliance and share two curries from the menu.

This is usually because they both want to play safe and have a mild korma, but also fancy trying something a tiny bit spicier, so it’s partly a hedging of bets.

But they also think it is somehow part of the fun to share, and more sociable.

I have been able to turn a blind eye to it in the past, but in more recent times there has been a more distressing development, with women actually suggesting sharing with men.

That is bad enough, but — and I won’t name names here — a few weeks back I was out with a group of male friends, and one of them suggested sharing.

You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Probably the most annoying thing about this sharing lark is my wife is also guilty of another heinous crime that the female half of old married couples often commits. She sometimes orders something from the menu that she knows I don’t like.

Then, when I’ve eaten my dinner, I look over to see her struggling to finish hers. It’s then that I have to tell her what a crime against humanity it is to waste food, and if she had had more foresight and ordered something I like, I could have finished it for her and relieved her of her guilt. I’m thoughtful that way.

I don’t want you to think we squabble a lot, because we are very happy and, apart from the above, for 29 years I have been the luckiest man in the world.

So tonight we are planning a romantic meal in a cosy little restaurant, where, at the end of it, I will lean over and whisper some words that are appropriate to the occasion.

“Are you going to leave those chips?”