It's that time again. The quiet before the storm.
The anticipation building to an almost explosive level when passions, excitement and more than anything, pure nerves take over the central nervous system of the most placid of people.
The football season has arrived...
As a supporter of a Premier League club, we have nineteen home games to thrill our very being...or not in some cases.
Living a life of a female football fan brings highs and lows to our lives. I have, for the second season running decided to partake in the Fantasy Premier League, joining thirty odd individuals, who, at some point will take the game so seriously, that the lack of points accrued that week will almost threaten a marriage.
But there's another phenomenon which occurs, one that stuns me each and every season....
Our men folk become bilingual...
I mean... How romantic is that!
Now, cast your mind back to those old school days when we sat in French and German lessons, listening to the lads in class making a complete cock up of any attempt to pronounce even the simplest word correctly. Whilst we girls were trying as hard a possible to get our mouths around as many verbs and nouns as we could in the effort to impress the Spanish waiters son in the hotel that we were going to that summer...but no, our male counterparts just found it embarrassing, humiliating and really rather stupid, with many a comment of "when am I going to need to speak *French/German/Spanish (*delete as appropriate).
Well, fast forward even a couple of years and suddenly mam or dad were wrapping a colourful scarf around their necks while their eldest brother/sister were teaching them the swear words to their favourite chant and off they event, with the hoards of fans, a whole barrel of excitement to watch their team play footy.
It's at this point when the amazing bilinguist comes out in them. Sitting in the stands, crushed against other supporters, the thrill of the new season, the heightened expectations of slowly climbing up the league table to tipping point at the heady heights of the top spot. It's then that, when having a conversation with the person next to them...it happens....
Suddenly, Sergio Aguero's name is pronounced with the ease and confidence of an Argentinian right there. The first time I heard it I couldn't quite believe it! I was incredibly impressed with the true feeling in the name and of course the rolling of the 'r'. It doesn't stop there. Mignolet's name is correctly pronounced as 'Meenyolay', if the Belgian keeper heard our northern blokes speak his name, he would be so proud, they even get the 'iches' right as in 'Ivanovic' and 'Tadic'.
I think the languages department in schools are missing a trick here- simply fill the blackboard (or whiteboard or whatever they have in classrooms these days) with a whole host of multinational footballers names and you are looking at straight 'A's for pronunciation from the get go.
You see, it's an amazing phenomenon...who would have thought it!