You really can't escape it however hard you try. Up early this morning, I turned on the radio and Myleen Klass to hear the Sunday Times promoting their coverage of the World Cup 2010.
I confess I don't know that much about football.
I know a bit about Chelsea because my stepson is an ardent supporter and I know about their Captain, although his name escpaes me right now - the one that caused a furore by allegedly going with his best mate's girlfriend. Very prosaic - it amazed me it made such headlines.
I suppose I could, at a push, give the bare bones of penalty shoot outs, offside and red cards.
I think the abundance of World Cup wall planners is just plain silly - who would really have them on his wall (work or bedroom)?
But I have to say, when it comes to the World Cup I can feel an edge of excitement. I remember clearly being in Ealing in the '90's, on a hot summer day. Could it have been a semi-final? Windows open and the holy, lion roar of 'Yeeeessss', the whoophah wayhey that carried down the street and the deafening howl of missed penalties that you could hear across the Borough.
Already, as I drive around Newark and Grantham, I notice the growing number of cars flying the cross of St George.
I expect, like everyone else, I'll get caught up in one of the few things which seems to bring our country together. I don't really know what their chances are, but 'Come on England!'
Oh yes - it's John Terry!
