OK, so she was in the foyer at the famous theatre and we were queuing to get to our seats but as she said while throwing down a couple of Rotorua Amjazz moves to the delight of those around us: "I might not get here again" .
Anyway, you get the gist. It has always been a given that she'd enjoy any theatrical show.
This makes things a little easier when things like birthdays roll round. Like this time.
So here we are, heading out of town on the first stage of our special birthday weekend. Off to see Miss Saigon.
I had arranged for nice accommodation close to the theatre and there was a restaurant just round the corner where we were booked in for a nice meal before the show.
As we drove, the sensible Mrs P came to the fore and asked if I'd locked everything seeing as we would be away a while. And more importantly, did I have the tickets.
I assured her I had it all organised and as we drove on I was able to bask in the warm glow of her affection.
"I can't believe you've done this," she said again. "I've always wanted to see Miss Saigon, so to organise all this and take me to Sydney to see it will be just the experience of a lifetime".
Gulp. Sydney?
Even now I shudder at the thought of it. Sydney? I never said anything about Sydney.
I had somewhere a lot closer to home in mind. In fact, I'd bought tickets to an amateur production of Miss Saigon in (drum roll, please) ... Hamilton.
I'm sure the colour drained from my face as I drove through Cambridge, just 15 minutes from our destination. Luckily Mrs P worked it out before I had to fall on my sword. The big roadside sign saw to that.
She was philosophical and took it all in good spirit, even when we discovered our motel looked on to the back of the bottle store and the background music at our restaurant was the "doof, doof, doof" of boy racers using the drive-thru at KFC nearby.
However, dressed to the nines she wasn't about to let any of that spoil her birthday and she swept into the theatre like Julia Roberts' double.
The show nearly saved the day. We enjoyed it. We had wine at half-time, laughed about the mix-up and determined one-day we'd get to Sydney.
All that was left to do was undertake a romantic hand-in-hand stroll back to our digs through the silent moon-kissed streets of the city.
Unfortunately, Hamilton's notoriously thick fog had come down during the show and we were reduced to inching our way along in the wet, cold claustrophobic pea soup using a mobile phone light to guide the way.
The first light we saw turned out to be a strip club. I was keen for shelter but Mrs P reminded me it was her birthday .. not mine.
Finally we made it home and, eventually, we have been able to laugh about the whole experience.
At some stage, though, I will take Mrs P to a top show for her birthday. I saw one advertised this week.
My heart began racing as I scanned the advertisement for details. Her birthday is just around the corner.
Could this be my chance to make amends?
Hmm. Maybe not. It's in Hawera.
