Brazil 2 England 1

So we're out. Drat. Drat, drat, drat, drat, drat.

But why am I getting so upset? I wasn't on the pitch. It says nothing about me. Don't wise men say "control what you can and learn to accept what you can't"? Empires won't fall. The sun will still shine. It's only a game.

Would I be any happier had we gone out on a Golden Goal, or on penalties or played better? Maybe, but I would still have been upset. There's a lot to be proud of. Considering that prior to the tournament I was urging a national effort to come up with some really good excuses for failure, I think we did really well. We did get out of the Group of Death after all - no mean achievement.

Who's this "we"? Why am I still upset? Why should I let my emotions be dictated by what happens on a football pitch thousands of miles away? Why did I go bananas when Owen scored? Is there anything on earth that would make me react that way? Actually, there are a couple of things: you should have seen me when I found out that I was going to Japan on a railway study tour.

Why is that my upstairs neighbour couldn't give a toss? Am I at fault or is he?

Who cares?