Can you kick it?

We have our critics, and by god we’re usually our own worst enemies, but there are some wonderful times to be in England.

The eve of an England World Cup match is one of them.

A good proportion of the population is positively buzzing in the days leading up to it.

Fridges are packed full of beer.

The scent of barbeques is carried on the breeze.

The sun always manages to hang around for longer than its alloted hour.

Flags flutter up and down the country

Long-dormant patriotism stirs again, an unashamed re-embracing of an oft tarnished national pride.

Streets miraculously empty just before kick-off.

(Take a walk through one of towns and cities at 13:55 tomorrow - it'll be like scene from the start of 28 Days Later)

Then up and down the country, for ninety minutes, millions people collectively endure the pain and the glory.

Twenty-two men, two sets of goalposts and a ball. It really is that simple.

The biggest party on earth has begun!