Some friends who’ve moved out of London might be coming to stay in May, but I’m forbidden from putting it in my diary. If I do, without hyperbole, that single admin action will irrevocably change the course of sporting history and ruin my husband’s entire life.
Welcome to the most confusing era of my football widowhood so far, when I discover the man I married is even more of an arse when Arsenal might actually win something for once (although don’t say or even think that or you’ll jinx it.)
If you’re lucky enough not to know what I’m on about, can I come and live with you please? Sigh.
