Sunday 27 June
As I woke I realised this was not just another day and began to think about what the players must be feeeling like at this moment. I dare say they stayed in a slightly more illustrious hotel than I did - a 20 quid a night hostel (they doubled the price for the World Cup) with shared bathroom facilities. Still, beer was less than a quid a bottle and we had a free breakfast - albeit just toast and coffee.
Next it was off to the airport to pick up the hire car for the four of us - two aussies from the hostel are coming too, along with my friend and I. They are without tickets but eventually pick some up for the same price we had paid.
The first glitch of the day comes from Budget (the car rental place). They claim that they do not accept Debit Cards or cash, only Credit Cards. When we vociferously complain that we reserved the booking under the premise of being able to use a Debit Card they retreat and accept our offer.
We asked about 20 different people how long it would take to get to Blomfontain for the game and we received 20 different answers, varying between two and six hours - quite a margin.
Nevertheless, we begin our journey with great gusto and, apart from a tiny mistake at the beginning of the trip when we miss a turn off, the drive is pretty smooth. The roads are much better than we had expected and, though there is plenty of football traffic, it is moving very quickly.
To be honest, I have never enjoyed driving as much as I did that Sunday morning. The sun was shining and there were thousands of flags and vuvuzelas, mostly in suport of England, particularly in evidence at each toll stop, as well as petrol stations. Even lorry drivers going in the opposite direction were hooting their horns in anticipation ahead of today's clash.
As we reached the half-way stage we listened to the lunch-time news. We chuckled as a report comes in of a plane landing on the motorway - half-way between Johannesburg and Bloemfontein, which is exactly where we are in the moment we hear the news. Our curiosity is somewhat alleviated by the site of the plane at the roadside just minutes later.
This was proving to be a strange day indeed.
We arrived in Bloemfontein in good time, much better than expected, and found a car park close to the stadium very easily, with little traffic. Like a hot knife through butter. Incredible.
A short hop, skip and a jump and we were outside the stadium. Unfortunately, I was the nominated driver and therefore had to go without beer. To be honest, this didn't bother me too much as I prefer to watch games sober so I can take in the full impact of the game. Something I would later regret.
I arrived at my seat about ten minutes prior to kick off. A couple of disappointments were noticeable early on - a small amount of booing during the German national anthem and that ghastly ten bombers World War II song.
Things got worse as the England defence capitulated and the mood in the crowd dampened.
Then we had that five minute spell where we thought we were back on track. Upson brought it back to 2-1 and then there was the Lampard 'goal'. From where I was sitting it was unclear as to whether it had crossed the line but from a flurry of texts and iphone updates it soon becomes apparent that we have been cheated.
As we eventually go on to lose 4-1 another sour moment rears its ugly head. A young England fan decides to chuck his plastic cup of beer over the railings on to the crowd below. An unnecessary act that is met with rightful criticism form other England fans.
As we filter out of the ground there is a sense of disappointment but we have been here many times before and there is a sense of we'll experience it again.
Needless to say, the journey back to Johannesburg is downbeat, in stark contrast to the excitement on the way to Bloemfontein earlier that day.
We make speedy progress and listen to Argentina - Mexico on the radio, the opponents that England would have been facing had they beaten the Germans.
As we approach Jo'burg International Airport to return the car we, like the English footballers, lose concentration and our way before going round in circles looking a bit stupid. We drop the car off and, again like Rooney, Gerrard et al, we head home.
As I woke I realised this was not just another day and began to think about what the players must be feeeling like at this moment. I dare say they stayed in a slightly more illustrious hotel than I did - a 20 quid a night hostel (they doubled the price for the World Cup) with shared bathroom facilities. Still, beer was less than a quid a bottle and we had a free breakfast - albeit just toast and coffee.Next it was off to the airport to pick up the hire car for the four of us - two aussies from the hostel are coming too, along with my friend and I. They are without tickets but eventually pick some up for the same price we had paid.
The first glitch of the day comes from Budget (the car rental place). They claim that they do not accept Debit Cards or cash, only Credit Cards. When we vociferously complain that we reserved the booking under the premise of being able to use a Debit Card they retreat and accept our offer.
We asked about 20 different people how long it would take to get to Blomfontain for the game and we received 20 different answers, varying between two and six hours - quite a margin.
Nevertheless, we begin our journey with great gusto and, apart from a tiny mistake at the beginning of the trip when we miss a turn off, the drive is pretty smooth. The roads are much better than we had expected and, though there is plenty of football traffic, it is moving very quickly.
To be honest, I have never enjoyed driving as much as I did that Sunday morning. The sun was shining and there were thousands of flags and vuvuzelas, mostly in suport of England, particularly in evidence at each toll stop, as well as petrol stations. Even lorry drivers going in the opposite direction were hooting their horns in anticipation ahead of today's clash.
As we reached the half-way stage we listened to the lunch-time news. We chuckled as a report comes in of a plane landing on the motorway - half-way between Johannesburg and Bloemfontein, which is exactly where we are in the moment we hear the news. Our curiosity is somewhat alleviated by the site of the plane at the roadside just minutes later.This was proving to be a strange day indeed.
We arrived in Bloemfontein in good time, much better than expected, and found a car park close to the stadium very easily, with little traffic. Like a hot knife through butter. Incredible.
A short hop, skip and a jump and we were outside the stadium. Unfortunately, I was the nominated driver and therefore had to go without beer. To be honest, this didn't bother me too much as I prefer to watch games sober so I can take in the full impact of the game. Something I would later regret.I arrived at my seat about ten minutes prior to kick off. A couple of disappointments were noticeable early on - a small amount of booing during the German national anthem and that ghastly ten bombers World War II song.
Things got worse as the England defence capitulated and the mood in the crowd dampened.
Then we had that five minute spell where we thought we were back on track. Upson brought it back to 2-1 and then there was the Lampard 'goal'. From where I was sitting it was unclear as to whether it had crossed the line but from a flurry of texts and iphone updates it soon becomes apparent that we have been cheated.
As we eventually go on to lose 4-1 another sour moment rears its ugly head. A young England fan decides to chuck his plastic cup of beer over the railings on to the crowd below. An unnecessary act that is met with rightful criticism form other England fans.
As we filter out of the ground there is a sense of disappointment but we have been here many times before and there is a sense of we'll experience it again.
Needless to say, the journey back to Johannesburg is downbeat, in stark contrast to the excitement on the way to Bloemfontein earlier that day.
We make speedy progress and listen to Argentina - Mexico on the radio, the opponents that England would have been facing had they beaten the Germans.
As we approach Jo'burg International Airport to return the car we, like the English footballers, lose concentration and our way before going round in circles looking a bit stupid. We drop the car off and, again like Rooney, Gerrard et al, we head home.
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