So the first England game of the World Cup gatecrashed my birthday. Obviously when the news was broken to me I was devastated, and briefly debated fighting the patriotic spirit. But as the Boyfriend pointed out, if I fought it I'd probably lose, and be sat alone at home wearing a party hat.
So I decided to embrace it fully, booking a massive table directly in front of the biggest TV in the pub beer garden. We got there at 5, ordered Pimms and Gin and Tonic, and got stuck into the barbeque (posh chicken kebab in a wrap - YUM).
By 7.10 I had managed to fill the two enormous tables I had booked and was deeply engrossed in a conversation (obviously non football related) with a friend I have not really seen in 10yrs. And suddenly there was singing and bright lights, and I realised there was a big cake with candles. And 200 England fans singing Happy Birthday.
And then the football began, and the same 200 fans that had sung me Happy Birthday were roaring "Roo-ney Roo-ney" and cheering and screaming, and when the goal was scored acting in a manner not unlike that of monkeys.
I feel that both my birthday and the England game managed to co-exist pretty well.
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