My Beloved, once he comes back from a trip of his own is accompanying me on a work trip this weekend.
Im sure we said we werent going to do all this faffing about this year, but whatever.
My beloved is meeting me at a special top secret location, where I am going to do work, and he is going to do hanging-around-keeping-me-company, which is an equally important job.
Last time I went far away for work completely on my own, I got scared of restaurants and people and didnt eat for two days. Or until I found a patisserie that responded well to my patented Bad French and Pointing technique. So having someone there is good.
But apparently he has decided that being a trophy wife is not fun enough, and that I must take some time off so we can go and watch some football.
Or maybe he is counting that as work. I know I am.
Im sure it will be fun in many ways. Football in a foreign tongue. I wont know what any of the announcements are saying, of course. Or who any of the players are. Or what any pieces of commentary we may catch are, or what any of the chants from the terraces may mean. So it wont be that different from that time we went to watch Chelsea, then.
I do try, I do try very hard. I have been listening to football on the radio and going Booooo at the points I think might be appropriate and Go ON! whenever anybody else shouted that for as long as we have been together, and yet it still just sounds wrong when I do it.
I try and learn, I try and soak up the information, but for some reason, it just never goes in, or at least never stays there.
An example: a conversation we have every single week*.
We are watching Match of the Day. Or Some other television programme specialising in people wibbling about men dribbling with balls.
Me: (Being over excited because I have remembered a useful bit of football knowledge) OOOH! Ooh! Yay! Look, My Beloved! It is that LIZARD man on the television! David Gower!
My Beloved: No. Not David Gower.
Me: What? What are you talking about?
My Beloved: David Gower is an ex-Cricket player.
Me: Then what is he doing on television talking about football?
My Beloved: *Sigh*
Me: And arent they scared he might lose it and go off on one about the lizarddy things again?
My Beloved: Thats David Icke.
Me: That man on the television Yes. The lizardman.
My Beloved: No. That man on the television, is Mark Lawrenson.
Me: (Outraged) WHO?!
WHY these people cant just do me a favour and admit theyre all the same person, I have no idea.
*No exaggeration. Every week.