C'est la vie

So, my boyfriend took me out to dinner last night- saying he hadn't forgotten that I'm not a fan of eating out, but this was a special occasion. Terrified thoughts of shiny rings and actual commitment flitting round in my head- and dreading looming singletonhood- I wandered into the restaurant in my glad rags, dressed up to the nines; might as well go out on a good note, right?
Half way through the meal he slid his hand across the table, accidentally revealing That Old Tattoo* and a pair of plane tickets to Paris. I let out an undignified squeal and...
When I got back to the flat I turned everything upside down and inside out hunting for my passport, and found it stashed inside a shoe box, along with a pair of unworn and previously forgotten boots and a packet of juggling balls.
"Fuuuuck!"I said, and knocked an ever present cup of coffee flying.
It expires in March, and it turns out one needs six months valid time in order to travel- I've been meaning to update it for quite some time now, after That Incident where I had issues getting through customs after a swift visit to Greece and North Cyprus.
Now, exactly how do I tell him, and where will I have to take him in return? Please not Bournemouth, Please not Aberdeen, Please not Swansea, Please not Scarsborough.
Hmmm.


*He has a teeny tiny tattoo on his wrist of his one time girlfriends name. Apparently she bullied him into it, but I'm not so sure about this; it sounds a tad too much like pet ownership to me- identichipping, and the like. But I am, of course, completely fine with my boyfriend having the name 'Patricia' tattooed into his wrist. Of course.