How they met (Stuarts recollection)

I was working for Trailfinders in the High Street Kensington selling longhaul holidays. Trailfinders has a company rugby team which play a handful of games on a Sunday throughout the season. Trailfinders rugby club has varying degrees of success at both getting 15 players each Sunday and with the final score line. I played winger.

Every year a rugby ball is arranged,  the idea of which is to spend very little on food and to drink so much that we forget how bad the food actually was. In 2003 the date was Saturday 27^th April. I donned my DJ, bought a tie at Victoria station (I lose one at each black tie do I go to) and made my way by train, tube and bus to The Trailfinders Sports Ground in Ealing. The free cocktails went down quickly and before long the wine on the tables had gone too. After a very dodgy chilli-con-carne, drinking was interrupted for speeches and the prize draw. I won a book and video about the Lions tour to South Africa.  I've never won anything in my life. Was this to be the start of a lucky night?

Speeches over it was back to some serious drinking, problem was I was at the ‘stop drinking' or ‘go for a tactical' point. I decided to stop drinking and ended up drinking water for the next 2 hours.

Along with the obligatory disco there was also a henna tattooist at the ball. Sat looking at the selection available was the stunning, slim, voluptuous blonde, who had caught my eye earlier in the evening. This was my chance, I checked my hair (looking good), checked my breath (okay, but my hand stunk) took a deep breath and then stumbled over to start a conversation. I think the opening line went something like "I've got a tattoo on my arse, do you want to see it?"

Smooth.

From that moment on we spent the whole night together drinking, talking, dancing and drinking. We were inseparable apart from when Emma was on best friend duty holding back Noosh's hair as she was being sick. As this was going on in the ladies I gave Emma her space; so important in a relationship.

It was getting late and I was propping up the bar chatting away with Emma biding my time waiting for the ideal opportunity to make my move for a cheeky snog. And then bang. Emma made the move and was attached to my face. I was shocked, neigh horrified. Not enough to stop you understand. But come on now what had happened to the natural order of boy meets girl, boy falls for girl, boy makes move, boy gets slap around face. 

With the birds singing outside we decided that the evening was coming to a natural end. I had long missed the last tube back to Balham and I only had £15 left in my back pocket. I was fucked. I had to be bold. I ordered a taxi and took Emma home. The ride came to £20. In for a penny etc so I borrowed £5 off Emma and invited myself in for a "night cap". I acted a real gent and kept my hands to myself and as far as you're concerned the evening ended there.

Traditionally there is a game of rugby on the morning after the ball. I had left my kit back in Balham and so I had to get up at the crack of dawn and make my way back to Balham only to then head straight back to Ealing. If only I had a little more confidence in my pulling technique (aka Jezza). We lost the game by a cricket score margin and then hit the club bar for beers. Now Emma had made the effort to come along and support and so it was only right that I go and chat to her after the game and then to invite myself around for dinner after! The rest is history.