1. At the mini train extravaganza.
Me: What does BNSF stand for on the side of the train?
Him: Burlington North Santa Fe, I’d say [on later inspection, this was quite right].
Me: How do you know that?
Him: Good guess?
2. On the radio
Me: Who sings that?
Him: David Bowie.
Me: Oh yeah, talk about selling out, remember that perfume advertisement?
Him: Well, David Bowie is the man who turned his back catalogue into a financial instrument.
Me: What?
Him: Complex explanation.
Me: How did you know that?
Him: Everyone knows that.
3. At the supermarket one morning.
Him: Interesting, that lorry is from Slovenia but the drivers’ friends are obviously Romanian.
Me: Eh?
Him: Well, it has Slovenian number plates, see from Maribor which, as you know, is Slovenia’s second city.
Me: Eh…
Him: But in the window he has Romanian plates with his friends’ names on them.
Me: Ah right.
To be fair this last touches on two of his specialised subjects: geography and number plates.  But generally, my husband is good on facts. When we have dinner at his parents’ house and a question comes up, everyone swivels towards him which I find mildly amusing. In my parents’ house (the home of the patriarchy as Mr. Waffle wistfully refers to it from his equal opportunities outpost), everyone swivels to my father. Though my father really does know everything.
What is it they say about women marrying men like their fathers?
