Magic Moments...A Game of Two Halves

Little Baby Biscuit visits the Mothership with Daddy....

Mr Husband is a football fan. A huge football fan. Before we met I was firmly of the opinion that people who followed football did so because they were incapable of reading books. Of course, I was quite wrong. Mr Husband is an actual genius (in my opinion) not least because he completed an Open University Degree course in his spare time, despite having a small screaming baby and frazzled wife to contend with. He got a first. A Magic Moment in itself!  But in addition to being a genius he is also a football fan.

He's usually quiet and sweet and thoughtful (and gorgeous, grrrrr) but when there's a match on, something comes over him. He gets very, erm, passionate....it's pretty much the only time you'll ever see him get aggressive or raise his voice. He loves it. Absolutely loves it. I'll probably never really understand it fully, but I try my best to be supportive.

On Saturday Mr Husband went to a  football match in London. His team were playing at home. For him a long trek by car and train and underground. He doesn't go that often, but I know that he loves doing it.

For his 30th Birthday, as well as taking him on a surprise trip to Barcelona (serious Wife Points) I wanted to get him something lasting and more permanent. By happy accident his team were selling personalised plaques set within their home ground. I chose (and paid an arm and a leg for) a large stone, inscribed in gold with his name, a cannon and the words Happy 30th Birthday.  It happily sits just outside the club's shop doors.

On the evening of his 30th Birthday we travelled to London together. It was dark, raining and very, very cold. I wore a long faux fur coat in an attempt to survive the match minus hypothermia.  I'd been sent a map with the rough location of our stone which I smuggled into my bag. Thankfully I'd had a last minute brainwave and took a small rechargeable torch with me. We arrived and I sent Mr Husband into the shop whilst I searched valiantly for his stone, on my hands and knees on the ground, with a tiny, pretty much useless torch in my teeth, amid throngs of people (some of whom took pity on me and helped) in the pouring rain. 

By the time he emerged from the shop I was stood, soaked to the skin and triumphant, holding aloft a pathetic, spindly little torch in an act that I hoped made me look like a sort of sexy Statue of Liberty, planted on top of his personalised stone. He initially thought I'd gone potty, but was chuffed to bits when he clicked what was going on. He visits that stone, that very special stone, that took so long to find, before every home game to bring the team luck. Must have worked this weekend, they won by a mile! It was a pretty flippin memorable night, and pretty bloomin magical, I tell thee!

Have a great week everyone!

Love, love,