Thursday November 13th. 10.05pm. Bed.


Me: “Ugh.”


“Got nothing to read.”




Look over at boyfriend who appears completely engrossed in my Kindle.


Me: “When can I have my Kindle back?”


Boyfriend: “Huh?”


Me: “My Kindle?”


Boyfriend: “Oh, er… am 18% through.”


Me: “HOW are you reading so slowly??”


In attempt to quash his sniggering at my penchant for fantasy books I suggested he read The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern.


This was two months ago.


Boyfriend: “I’m taking my time! It’s… interesting…”


Have distinct suspicion he’s hating it, but is determined not to quit.


Commendable, but the last book he didn’t really want to read took him over seven months.


Me: “Where are you up to? What’s going on?”


Boyfriend, looking slightly ruffled: “I’m at the bit where… Look, do you mind?! I’m reading!”




Me: “Oh I can’t even check Facebook!” (somehow lost phone during one of Felix’s epic public tantrums two days ago)


Boyfriend, not looking up: “mmmmmmm”






Boyfriend, huffing: “Read the many bits of newspaper you insist on buying both days of every weekend but never actually read?”


Me: “You can’t read a weekend paper after the weekend. Feels weird.”




Me: “Urgh.”


“Need to READ.”




Me: “Otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep.”


Boyfriend, as if suddenly aware of the inevitable knock-on effect of this: “Go get a book from the many books in the lounge you definitely have not read.”


Me: “There’s a reason I’ve not read them.”


“I don’t want to.”


Boyfriend: “Then why do we have them?”


Me: “They look nice! Cosy.”


Boyfriend: “Well the only book I have here is this…”


*holds up large hardback with ex-Man U boss Alex Ferguson’s head on it*


Me: “What is it?”


Boyfriend: “I’m joking. You won’t like it.”


Me: “Pass me the book.”


Boyfriend, visibly thrown: “But I’ve not read it yet. And you definitely won’t like it.”


Me, flicking through: “Ok I’ll read it. Thanks!”


Boyfriend: “This is ridiculous.”


Me, ignoring him: “OK – Introduction…”


Boyfriend: “It’s too big for you! Look how small your hands look.”


Me: “It says here he wanted to write ‘a story that people inside and outside the game would find interesting.’

See – that’s me! I am ‘outside the game’…”


Boyfriend: “No. I am outside the game. You are nowhere near the game. You don’t even know the game is on.”


5 minutes later and several pages into Alex Ferguson: My Autobiography.


Boyfriend seems far less into Kindle.


Me: *small cough*


Boyfriend: “What? What’s he said?”


Me, already a tad bored of reading a load of names I don’t know: “Oh, er, nothing much.”


“Well, actually, he just said that Rio Ferdinand is a watch enthusiast.”


Boyfriend: “Is he???”


More quietly, to himself, “I didn’t know that.”


Fifteen minutes later and have been on page 26 for what feels like a very very long time.


Tempted to skip to Chapter 5: Beckham, but if this is at all noticed boyfriend will actually burst with sheer delight and ridicule.


No. Better just ride this out for a few more minutes then go to sleep.


Boyfriend: “What’s going on?”


Me: “Oh.. well…”


scan, scan, scan, scan…


“Alan’s just talking about Glasgow and…”


Boyfriend: “Alex.”


Me: “Huh?


Boyfriend: “His name. It’s Alex.”


Me: “Yes that’s what I meant. Alex.”


Sir Alex…”


“Mr Ferguson…”


“The Fergs…”


Boyfriend: *rolls eyes*


Me: “How far are YOU now?”


Boyfriend: “Oh, er… 19%”


Me: “Right.”


Stare back at book. Alan is talking about someone nearly scoring… but not.


Boyfriend: “Shall we go to sleep?”


Me: “Yes please.”