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Seychelles stirred as a familiar tune echoed through the bedroom she shared with England.
Usually the loud digital bleeping of an alarm clock woke her up in the morning, but today she was being roused from slumber by the tune Happy Birthday to You being played by England on his acoustic guitar.
“Snooze.” She grumbled and rolled over.
“That’s fine. Those 10 minutes will allow me to set up my amplifier and electric guitar.” England chuckled, his words making Seychelles lazily rise into an upright position.
“Do you usually wake up your former colonies on significant occasions like this? Is America going to get the same treatment on Saturday for his 250th?
England scoffed at the thought.
“Good God no. Besides right now he’s focusing on his Round of 32 tie against Bosnia.”
“Speaking of the World Cup,” Seychelles said with tilted head, “I’m still buzzing that Ghana got a 0-0 draw with you.”
England grimaced but still sat on the bed next to her.
“Can I still count on your support for my own game against DR Congo on Wednesday?” he asked.
Seychelles leant over and kissed England’s cheek.
“If it means you get another World Cup to have on your bedside table: sure why not? That one you have right now is gathering dust.”
England playfully pushed Seychelles’ shoulder.
“Cheeky mare.” He smiled has he dipped in to plant his own, tender kiss on her lips.
“Happy birthday Shelly. Where did those 50 years go?”