Nine months of joy, torment are about to start

To all partners of fans of the English Premier League, hat’s it, I’m afraid. From next weekend, your husband/boyfriend/wife/ girlfriend will – particularly over weekends – transform into a couch potato with hearing that is far more selective than usual.

The 2017/18 season kicks off and your weekends will not be the same until sometime in May next year, when your significant other will emerge from his/her self-induced hibernation and life will return to a semblance of normality. If you are still around, that is.

One of my ex-wives used to

Tcall it my “zombie state”, claiming I zoned out to such an extent I forgot I was attached and had offspring that needed entertaining. She used to throw things at me as I sat in front of the TV, but not even that helped. Any housework that needs to be done will have to be outsourced even if, like me, you consider yourself a competent handyman. Afternoon parties/functions or family get-togethers will be a nono unless, of course, said function has DStv and comes complete with an HD big-screen TV.

The wedding of one of my daughters is a case in point. Being the father of the bride, I was

Guy Hawthorne

obliged to make a speech at the reception. Problem is, the reception coincided with a match featuring my beloved Arsenal.

Fortunately, the wedding venue was one of those up-market (read expensive) places with a TV lounge replete with a magnificent big screen and I grabbed myself a cold beverage and snuck away from the match.

I was rudely interrupted by the best man, who charged into the lounge to tell me I was being called to make my speech. I entered the reception area to many a frosty stare and, after the obligatory “the bride looks gorgeous” introduction, proceeded to call my new son-in-law Thierry Henry (who had scored twice for the Gunners that afternoon).

In retaliation, my son-in-law referred to me as “that distracted old fart” in his speech and I was left with severely bruised shins when my daughter kicked me all over the floor when I got to dance reception to catch the with her.

The same son-in-law and I are close these days but we never watch football together, mainly because he has as much interest and knowledge of the game as I have in crocheting.

This story explains the extent of the passion some of us have for the game and our team of choice, but there is a simple solution – start watching with your partner.

My better half would rather amputate her own legs with a rusty knife than watch football but, hey, that way she would, by default, also become a couch potato.

What is it they say? Couples who play together, stay together.