‘Welcome to the new edition of this Guest Blog. I am a full-time working mum of 2 boys and a published novelist of ‘The Ninth Cross’ by my pen name J. Karst. I get involved in trying that little bit I can in saving the environment for the future generations.’

            The  majority of infants in the UK are born with a rugby, a football, or a cricket bat attached. When they grow older their preference for the national sport strengthen and solidify. Then they marry off and their partners understand that when it comes to one of those matters its basically ‘life or death’ situation.

            I married a football man, in particular an English football man. What I have learned is that are many footballing variants roaming in the UK countryside. These different breeds of football fans identify themselves by their club or by the part of the UK they came from. Even though they all love the same thing, they will fight to death over a bag of air.

            In our early relationship I made a grave mistake mentioning that ‘it’s only a game’ and ‘anyway UK will be the winner no matter what’ when England played Scotland. It was as well received as when attending a Highland Scottish wedding and telling a butch beardy Scotsman that I like his skirt and a handbag. Considering that my husband was the only English man attending his life hung on a fine line. Thankfully the bushy beardy Scot picked up on my accent and taught me the vital thing about a ‘kilt’ and a ‘sporran’. Nevertheless, English boyfriend, now my husband, hid in the corner of the room throughout the whole wedding.

            Lessons learned, I am well aware of the love between football fans and that’s why my browser was going at a full pelt at finding a football-wife-leper colonies with available spaces I can pre-book for Euro 2021. All spaces booked up, I apologised profusely when I screamed at the TV for the Czech football team to score into the English net. I thought that was the end of my bother, as thankfully England won.

            However, the bombshell landed when it was announced that England was to play Germany, its arch nemesis. The historical track record made me google the football-wife-leper colony to check in case there were available spaces, for I expected the worst. Yet again, the colony was fully booked so when England vs German game started, I moved my sleeping arrangements to the loft. To my surprise, the cheers from downstairs echoed the streets of England and in the end, I was moving back to our bedroom.

            Then I realised why the football-wife-leper colony was continuously booked up. The euphoria of England winning was better than any Viagra. The smart forward-thinking partners pre-booked all the places because they weren’t worried about losing because they were also counting on winning…

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