Saturday 10 June So it was here, the day when England's World Cup became real. I made my way to the Romerplatz where the party amongst England fans was gathering momentum. The giant game of keepy-uppy was continuing, except now the German police kept on confiscating the balls … and were greeted by loud boos and 'can we have our ball back' chants from the England fans. I wanted to stage a keepy-uppy competition of my own between an England fan and a Paraguayan, but the South Americans were few in number. So I persuaded Hugo – a Chilean living in Seattle and wearing a Mexican shirt – to represent them. He complained of having recently undergone a hip operation, but I poo-pooed this excuse. He did lose in the end though to a young lad from Wetherby in a best of three challenge – our scientific experiment showing England would beat Paraguay 2-1. If only there were that many goals! So then on to the fan-fest with thirty thousand other England fans packing the stands by the river. It was 32 degrees C in the open, but the football wasn't that hot. At least we won. Reading a Frankfurt football magazine during the boring part of the match I discovered the 'usual stadium regulations' applied to the Waldstadion where England were playing. That meant 'no flares, ladders or foldable bicycles'. With regulations like that it's a wonder any fans were allowed in at all. Friday 9 June I think I've met the man with one of the worst jobs in Germany. I was in the third tallest building in the European commission (not the greatest of boasts I admit but it's the best I can do to make the building seem grand) and was going up in the elevator. The building in question was the Main Tower. It's named after the river it overlooks in Frankfurt, pronounced 'Mine'. Anyway in the elevator was the bellboy – bell middle-aged-man might have been more accurate – and I thought I'd try out my German on the way to the 55th floor. "Wie ghet's?" I asked, trying to strike up a small conversation. "Gut" he replied but his face told the story of a man who's just spent a week at the mother-in-law's. Mind you I can't blame him - up, down, up, down, up, down, in a windowless box for eight hours a day – maybe a week with the in-laws doesn't sound so bad after all. After the heady heights of the Main Tower, it was on to the Röerplatz in Frankfurt's old town. This was where all the atmosphere was. England fans chanting, Argentinian fans running away, Paraguay fans still in Paraguay. There’s actually a very friendly rivalry going on. England fans shook hands with the old Falkland Islands enemy and unsuccessfully chatted up the local German girls. They played the biggest game of keepy-uppy ever involving around 200 fans and the biggest cheer of the day came when they broke one of the burger meister's windows with the ball. Then it was on to watch the big opening game at the Frankfurt Fans Fest – a giant screen in the middle of the river Main with seating on the banks. It is a great place to watch football. When Costa Rica scored all the England fans cheered a middle-aged German lady next to me muttered angrily at us in her native tongue. "We're going to whoop your asses in the next round" is what she said. Probably. Thursday 8 June I was awoken by the bing-bong of the ship's tannoy at 6.30 am. They kindly wanted to tell me breakfast was being served. I suspect they just wanted to make sure nobody overslept. But TWO HOURS before the ferry got to Rotterdam! Even Victoria Beckham doesn’t take that long getting ready in the morning (mind you David probably does) My rude awakening was made even more unpalatable because I hadn't slept particularly well. I must have still had the Titanic going round my head. Glug glug. The car journey from Rotterdam to Bad Nauheim near Frankfurt where I was staying was predicted by the route planner to take four hours. Eight hours later after I'd got lost in Holland, driven down one particular stretch of road 3 times, travelled into the centre of Cologne more than a week before I was supposed to do, and seen more of the German countryside than I wanted, I arrived. Bad Nauheim is a town of unexpected pleasures. It's pretty, got a lovely spa, and has a plenitude of great outdoor cafes. But its two big claims to fame are that Elvis was stationed here for national service and … the Saudi Arabian team are based here. I had wondered as I drove in why there were big World Cup welcome signs around the town thirty km from the action – I didn't think my fame had extended to Germany – but when I heard about the Saudi encampment I understood. However, despite the locals telling me they'd seen the team walking through the town (and that the players had bought their horses with them) my attempts to see a World Cup team in the flesh have fallen flat. I staked out their hotel, but left after feeling too much like a crazed fan and apparently, whilst I was interviewing two older German gentlemen (Ernst and Wolfgang) about England's chances, several players walked behind me without me seeing them. I asked Ernst about Saudi Arabia's chances in the World Cup. "They will finish in the middle," he replied. Wednesday 7 June 2006 I don't know how Jack and Rose did it - you know that thing on the Titanic where Leonardo persuades Kate to close her eyes on the bow of the doomed liner. As I waited on deck for the 'Pride of Hull' to leave for Rotterdam where I would drive on to Frankfurt, it was too cold to be doing any on-board gymnastics. Mind you there were still two girls in shorts and t-shirts bravely showing off their goosepimples to the world. Perhaps that's how Winslet achieved it, with a couple of nights out in Hull. Either that or thermals. Inside the ship the band Pink Panther were trying to entertain the passengers with classic like Dance the Night Away and YMCA. Not that the audience needed much entertaining. Each time there was a suitable pause in the song they chanted 'England' and other football related songs. I must admit though to being quite pleased when Pink Panther's Cotton-eyed Joe was lost in the midst of Football's Coming Home. Mind you with all the Beckham, Owen and Rooney shirts on board it seemed like really football was definitely going abroard. | 
