I woke up this morning and thought my intended had gone all Manuel on me. You know, Manuel, the Spanish waiter from Fawlty Towers.
We had been discussing Cuba for a while and she started going "Que?". Well, it sounded like "Que?" anyway. "It's a real shame," announced the light of my life, "that Que isn't out on video until after we get back off Honeymoon."
"Que? What?" I responded.
"Que 1," she said. "It is a film."
Ah, I thought, she is stringing me along. At any moment now she is going to tell me the sequel is called K2 and is about a mountain in the Himalayas.
In fact, that is exactly what she did say. There is a sequel called K2 due out in the cinemas. And she was deadly serious.
Then I thought deeply about it and gradually the pieces came together. We are going to Cuba, she wants to see a film called K or Que? And the other day Benicio del Toro was on Jonathon Woss talking about his new film, a sequel, called... Che! About Che Guevara, one of the most famous revolutionaries of all time.
I couldn't help it, I was falling around laughing. Poor Wren, looked exceedingly embarrassed. "What?" she asked.
"You mean Che... Che Guevara. Not K Guevara. What did you think the K stood for? Kevin?"
We had a bit of an internet crisis last night. Everyone swears by the internet, including Wren. "Oh, why don't we do it on the Net?" They are always saying. The whole thing is inclined to drive me potty, particularly when Wren's laptop struggles to get a signal at my gaffe.
Anyway the plan was to order a large meteor pizza, spicy chicken pieces and an extra hot sauce.
Of course, we had to go through the normal on line ordering process. Name, address, postcode etc etc, followed by all the credit card details. After that it was just a question of clicking the mouse and ... waiting... and waiting... and waiting... After five minutes hoping for the confirmation of our advert up came that well known page... This page cannot be displayed. Drat.
We decided to go right throught he same rigmarole again. Fortunately this time it worked.
Within two minutes of finishing our ordering there was a knock at the door. Wow, that was quick. The pizza man burst my bubble a bit though. "You guys have ordered two pizzas," he said.
"Bloody internet's fault!" I responded.
"You can still cancel," he told me.
Ah, what the hell. I love meateor pizza and so does Wren...