Woke full of nervousness and concern that the day would not go well (as proved correct) :O(
The day started with a bad omen when, having decide that a wander around town was in order, I went out for a light early morning stroll. A couple of blocks from the hotel I was approached by a nutter in the street, who started shouting at me in Portuguese, than walking straight towards me and eventually spitting at me; he followed this up by reaching into his pocket as if to get something! A quick and limited, but it appears effective, defensive action was carried out (what?...I never touched him Ref!), followed by a Usain Bolt impression, eventually bought the whole incident to a close!
The stadium was mental with Great swaths of Uruguayan fans massively out numbering the English, but the atmosphere was electric and lots of joint pics taken between fans and great fun had by all. The English fans sang their hearts out, but sheer weight of Uruguay numbers may have drowned us out on TV??
England were weighed measured and dispatched with efficiency, which unfortunately lead to a despondent English end behind the goal. England's woeful points tally and the upcoming final rounds games, lead to talk of a possible 'Mike Bassett England Manager' (a true depiction of England if ever there was one!), type great escape, if a Costarican parrot shot a Uruguayan painter in Italy?
Mucho beer followed but the party had run it's course and someone had called the fun police, removing the urge to go hell for leather, instead stand in the kitchen moaning about what could have been.