Our house is England v. Italy every day. I like tea, he likes coffee. I like mash, he likes pasta. I’m a good driver *honestly*. He’s a crazy Italian driver. The list of our differences is endless. The biggest difference, obviously, is the allegiance to one’s country.
As we led up to the England v. Italy match this week, so many people have asked me “so, who will you be supporting on Sunday?”. This comment, every time, was met with a squinty eyed, creased forehead scowl. Which country will I be supporting? Are you serious? I’m “married” to an Italian. I’m not Italian. I’m ENGLISH. So, I reckon I’ll be supporting ENGLAND. More to the point, not only I am English, I am Liverpudlian! Football is in my soul. I was brought up to live, eat and breathe You’ll Never Walk Alone until I was eighteen years old. Yes, that does make me “a red”, not “a blue” and in that also, my allegiance is never-failing.
Tonight, as my second home plays my real home, there is no question in my mind where my loyalty lies – and on this occasion only, my loyalty is not with my husband! Forget matrimony – tonight, I’m Steven Gerard, I’m married to my team!
As much as I love Italy; the food, the beaches, the fashion, I’m afraid to say that their national team is absolutely unfortunate looking, facially. I mean, I might have been drip fed LFC as a child but I am female after all and if I’m honest, I know more about mens legs than I do about the off-side rule. The Italian team is so unfortunate looking. Therefore, they lose on two counts: England are going to win, fact. England are better looking, fact. Controversial but true.
So, as Bambina lays asleep in her cot after me having eased her out of a 38 temperature, the Italian has sworn his allegiance to his country by going to a friend’s house to wave his hands repeatedly and shout obscenities at my men at every given chance. I’m glad he’s out.
Oops, half time. Must go make myself a nice cup of Early Grey. Long live the Queen. It’s good to be British.