Yes yes yes, I know these are the lyrics from the one, Taylor Swift and no (for those of you who don’t know of my bitter dislike) I am not a fan. Let’s not get started on why (I only have so many hours left in this day). This song was on the radio and this line got me thinking; It fits pretty well with how I feel about Rob (go you Tay Tay, we’ve connected). Let me explain.
I met Rob many years ago whilst he was doing his PhD and he was working at the practice I worked at. We got on pretty well due to Rob’s ability to be totally engaging and talk to anybody about anything (I often like to watch the changes in people’s expressions when he first chats to them). This led to us discussing music, football, festivals, films and we obviously shared a curiosity about them animals (or’tha’naahtthties’ as we now greet every animal we ever see) our humour is of a very similar nature too (although I’m far funnier, of course).
We gradually became good mates. We went to tons of gigs, some music festivals, watched plenty of Liverpool games (thanks to my eldest brother’s obsession with LFC I grew to love the game) and of course, we worked together.
I soon realised this Scouser was definitely a scally. A very cheeky chap indeed but it was impossible to not enjoy being around him. I made many a beautiful friend as a result of knowing him and met the best dog in the world. She once left a little present for me in the form of a very dry and small poo.
About 6 years ago (in the most unromantic way possible) we started seeing each other. The transition from friends to partners was tricky but we got there.
A year later, Rob had an opportunity to move and work in Australia, I then also got offered a job and we naturally went with it. It was mind blowing. I fell in love with Melbourne and its beautiful, multicultural and relaxed feel. Not to mention the abundance of variety in food, bars, beers… It reminded me of the UK in lots of ways and helped me to feel less homesick. Sadly, it was time to head back home but of course, not before making some of the best friends we’ll ever have, knowing that if we shall return, they’ll be there, waiting for us at the airport (trying to send us back).
Rob was desperate to do this run and we were clearly at a stage where we could pull it off. We could get home, get our heads down into some work and see how we felt about not being in Melbourne (where I most definitely left a little piece of my heart, most likely with a little koala on the GOR). See how we felt about being home and what we needed to do about this Forrest Gump run thing, etc etc.
We moved into Rob’s house in Liverpool. I love Liverpool. If you’ve never been you really should go visit (maybe come visit us when we’re back). It’s always difficult to describe places, with giving enough credit. There are obviously bad and good no matter where you go. I truly believe, from the amount of places I have lived now, that it’s more about who you have around you. It’s horses for courses sure but without my family, best friends and good people, I don’t care too much for the sights and scenes or the weather. Just as well because Liverpool is a very windy and rainy place. Not daily and I got myself a good tan by sitting in the garden with the chickens but it’s not the greatest. That isn’t exclusive to Liverpool of course but what is exclusive to Liverpool is chatter. Chatter and laughter. Scousers are know for being super chatty, gregarious, passionate and friendly. It’s very true. If you have a GSOH you’ll do well there. I love the place and all the people that I met in those brief months are now my friends. We had good jobs and managed to knuckle down with organising the run.
Fast forward to September and I find myself emptying MY hand luggage and cramming MY stuff into my already large check-in bag so that Lord Pope, could use it for his stuff (and, breathe). This is a common occurrence and I really should just bring two (maybe 3) of everything I ever have, to account for “Rob Tax” (We had a blazing row once over a phone charger, I kid you not). We bicker, daily, and usually about my expectations being too high (like, wanting the cupboard doors closed, instead of left open or him putting my charger back when he’ borrowed it…) but it’s what we do and it’s mostly forgotten after 5 mins. So, where was I? Oh yes, the airport. I was at Heathrow airport, checking in our bags and the running buggy, with my favourite person, The Robla; heading to Mobile, AL about to embark on his ultimate dream, running Forrest Gump’s exact (as close as you unofficially can) route. I find myself driving a 30 ft RV in pitch black for 6hrs after having only test driven it a few hrs before;I find myself, on my knees, attaching a pipe to the ‘black’ tank (the secret code for the poo and pee tank in an RV) and emptying our, well, our stinks down into a sewer (Rob hasn’t felt obliged in this task yet!); I find myself with his feet in my face, with him instructing me that I have to check his feet daily (erm? I don’t remember that being part of the deal?) *heaves into hand*.
So, you see, I knew he was trouble when he walked in. He’s moved me to Australia, Liverpool (I’ve virtually handled his faeces) and now we’re doing this crazy stint across America, but what most excellent trouble to get into eh? I don’t think he’ll ever believe that he has made me a better person in many ways and given me some truly magnificent opportunities and for that kind of trouble, I’m immensely grateful.