We went to Wembley last night. Here's a picture of that glorious arch with the back of JC's head in the shot.
It was very cold and wet yesterday; the exact opposite of what you'd expect fair-weather football fans like myself to be going out in.
And. Well. England didn't play very well. Stevie G did just fine, but I'm sad to say JC's still never seen him score, live, in the flesh, as it were. There were some new boys playing in the middle, and it seemed like they were a bit nervous: each time someone passed them the ball, they tended to knock it back to the keeper, rather than try anything creative. And I started to feel a bit sorry for that Andy Carrol bloke after the rest of the team had hoofed the ball into the air for the 1000th time for him to jump up and get it, again, and fail to head it to someone useful. Again. He must have nightmares where his eyes are just continually trying to adjust to the speed of a ball flying through the air and his knees are failing to make him jump at the right moment... At least, that's what I'd have if I were him.
One of the goals scored by France was the keeper's fault (never leave your near post open, dude!), something an ex-goalie like your author doesn't like to see. He did make some good saves, though, which was a blessing otherwise the score could've been much worse.
But the trip to the venue was great: Wembley is quite stunning. Something I really haven't quite captured in these photos:
Ooh look. Stevie G's arse:
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