Spain won; England bo00od

Old Trafford, Manchester: Field of dreams.

A 6 hour drive from London - if you hit roadworks and traffic delays, and a 4 hour drive back to London - if you speed through roadworks and sit in the fast lane. We manged to drop in on Rugby School, eat copious amounts of junk food and of course, play our trademark brand of urban cricket.

On to the ground: A marvellous sight and sound when full with 58,000 fans. You can check the Spanish fans in the top right hand corner of the photo, flanked by more security than Prince William.

For the record, Spain won the game with a solitary boomer of a goal in the second half.

One thing that really gets on my goat is the crowds in this country. They booed the Spanish team as it was announced, booed the ref as he comes on and by the end of the game they booed the English team as they left the field. As strange as it sounds, to see the English team live makes you realise that they are only human. The press consistently whip up excessive hysteria, photographing these chaps at every corner and the pay packets they receive as a result of TV rights put them on a such an inflated pedestal that the public expects them to perform magic every time they hit the field. Admittedly the Pommy boys didn't play at their best and couldn't create any opportunities up front, but the fact that most of the supporters that moaned and booed had stomachs the size of footballs paints an ugly picture of a lazy blame culture.

So, there's my little man tantrum for the day and it doesn't spoil what was a damn fine outing. It's somewhat ironic that I now find myself whinging about the whingers - but as they say, when in Rome...