Even though this isn’t the most technically brilliant photo in the world I have posted it because it demonstrates a new level of proximity between ‘me an im’. Today was a breakthrough because DM sat in his own seat at White Hart Lane for the first time. Yes, folks, he is now a season ticket holder too – no more waiting for Sarah to be unable to go to get his chance to go to ‘The Lane’ – he can now go every week! This photo was taken when we were stopped on a train outside Seven Sisters station for the best part of an hour while a points failure was dealt with.

I am all at once shocked, awed and thrilled at this new phase in our lives together. You see David hated footie when we met. I can clearly remember the first time I went off to footie from his house – he’d thought I was joking when I’d told him on the phone that I would be getting up (after a night at his house), pulling on my Spurs shirt and going to a game with Sarah. His words to me when I kissed him goodbye on his doorstep were ‘what am I going to do for the rest of the day?’

He watched from afar as my team’s triumphs and disasters were notched up throughout that season. He started to take an interest in the outcome of the game – firstly by checking the result after the game ended, then watching the TV to find out the action as it occurred. He confided in me he’d never been to a real game – only ever to lowly Aldershot before. I took him along to see a couple of games and he got hooked. He got more and more interested and each time Sarah couldn’t make a game he pitched up in her place. He started to love the mad antics in the Bell and Hare as much as I did. He started to mind when Olly or Bondy or Tom said ‘see you next week’ and he’d have to say ‘sorry – I won’t be here – Sarah’s coming so I can’t’.

So as of today and the start of our new campaign, DM has his very own season ticket so now the two of us meet Sarah at Bank station and the two of us drink Stella in the Bell and Hare and the two of us share the happiness and sadness that comes with being a Spurs fan.

Today’s game was against Liverpool – a side with all sorts of special meaning and a side with ambition – their manager got fired last season because they didn’t do well enough and they have brought in a new manager who is every bit as keen to show good form as our new manager (Santini – ex manager of France). We did well in a closely contested game and ended up with a draw with many of our new signings showing really good form.

The special meaning to Liverpool is linked to our relationship – the last two seasons David took Sarah’s place for this fixture so this was his third time of watching Spurs Liverpool at WHL. I still have to pinch myself to believe that is true. BUT the really important game was four years ago when we had been flirting like mad on email for a month or so after rekindling our interest in one another at a party. I’d been disappointed he hadn’t made any suggestion that we should meet up after weeks of getting on famously by email – I had no idea how thrilling the sound of an email popping into my box could be until I started on this big flirt with him.

I’d all but given up hope of the chats turning to more when I chatted to him on a Saturday morning then went out for the afternoon and evening with a friend. When I arrived home tipsy and tired at 1am I found to my dismay a message saying ‘why don’t you open a bottle of wine and I’ll help you drink it’. Oh how miserable that made me – I’d been waiting for that moment for ages and he’d gone and asked when I was out. He probably thought I was ignoring his advances so I sent him a message explaining I’d been out and suggesting he came over the following night (Sunday). No response.

I was again beside myself with misery – I checked my emails every ten minutes or so but NOTHING. I had no car at the time – it was in the garage getting repairs done so I set off to the supermarket on foot to buy hair dye (can’t have a first date with so much grey hair) and wine. All of this was ‘just in case’ because I had no idea if he’d show up or not. I’d made a point of not getting in loads of exotic food because I didn’t want to look at it all if he didn’t come – all that would do would be to remind me that I’d made a fool of myself so I decided to do no more than dye my hair.

I checked those emails over and over again and no word from him.

My beloved Spurs were on the TV at 4pm and for the first time in my life I sat down to watch them without a beer and with a cup of tea (just in case you understand). I kept dashing upstairs to check my emails and feeling ever more crestfallen because there wasn’t one from him. How foolish could I have been? Just because he’d fancied me fifteen years earlier was no reason to suppose he felt the same then. I was just a sad, lonely woman whose imagination had run away with her and fantasised about all sorts of wonderful things with this man that had excited me and interested me for so many years it was impossible to remember a time when I’d not wanted him. I was beating myself up for being such a fool and biting my nails as Spurs hung on to a 2-1 lead in the final five minutes of the game when the phone rang and joy of joys, it was DM.

He was casual and funny and arranged to come over an hour later. I spent 50 minutes trying on every outfit I owned to find something that I looked good in but didn’t look too eager or too hookerish – after all this was supper in front of the fire, not a night on the town. I then spent 10 minutes throwing food around the kitchen trying to look as if I’d spent the hour cooking up a feast that would make him think of me as a fabulous cook.

Somehow all this anguish and terror made way for a fabulous evening and the rest, as they say, is history.

So, every time I think of Spurs V Liverpool, I think of that phone call and what it has lead to…….and I think myself very lucky indeed!