It took a while, but at last the Euros have sucked me in.
I missed most of the Germany game, and my delight at the result was tempered by the prospect of an anti-climactic quarter-final defeat to Ukraine. But England’s stunning 4-0 win, half of which I saw, was so comprehensive that I began to wonder.
On Wednesday I went out to do the weekly supermarket shop at about 7.15pm, having my pick from deserted aisles. I still felt resistant to becoming too invested in the football, such have been the crushing disappointments of the past, so didn’t mind missing the first ten minutes of the match. And when Denmark scored soon after I got home, just as I was putting away a jar of preserved lemons, I feared that things were about to turn sour.
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