So the family came through. The useless cousins who cost you time and money finally paid a bit back.
I got quite excited yesterday. I shocked myself. It was an interesting game to follow. I saw the first 3 minutes on the iPhone before the Internet was switched off. Then I saw an opportunity to bunk off. Last 30 minutes of the first half were on the radio while driving through unusually quiet north London streets.
England scored. I did a celebratory drum roll on the steering wheel setting off the car horn into a series of short bursts. The two women on the pavement jumped with shock. Then jumped again when I made that 1-0 gesture. This time it was with joy. We passed a pub rapidly spilling into the road. People bouncing. Sunshine. An afternoon pint. An England goal. Briefly the country was at one.
Home for the second half. I'm sorry England for my two previous blogs. I've done you down. This is important. I realise that now. This is my son's first real world cup. The first he's interested in. I remember staying up late as a child and jumping up and down in the arms of my dad as Lineker scored to get us out of the group in the 80's. We had that moment again yesterday. But those moments are far more real from now on. I feel it's part of his footballing education to feel the emotions of a Germany game. On Sunday afternoon we will either be jumping around the room or be hit by that dark 'what if' cloud. He has a lifetime of this to deal with. Sunday are his first steps.
So England, don't let him down. Don't make me guide him from under the dark cloud already. Not yet. No more limericks. No more boos. Make us proud.
By George, where's my car flag!