World Cup Telegramme

Eight hours sleep on the plane. Good start. Luggage fourth onto conveyor belt. Man waiting at arrivals with sign ‘Jean-Marc Knoll – Welcome to Cape Town’. Nice touch. Withdraw match tickets in thirty seconds from machine. Too easy. Buy cheap 1980s-Casio-watch-lookalike telephone for under £10. Ask for demonstration to make sure is not toy. Works. Very surprised.

Found in a time capsule, carbon dating estimate: 45BC

'Is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling?' radio questions. This is love. Feels great already. First sighting of Table Mountain on journey into town. Big and flat, like a mountain and a table. Weather perfect for southern hemisphere winter: clear blue skies, 16c degrees. Arrive at temporary home for ten days. Meet neighbours - two black cats. Name cats Frank and Roger. Roger not impressed. Tell him to choose between Roger and Blacky. No more complaints from Roger.

Roger did not appreciate having his self-appreciation seminar rudely interrupted by the paparazzi

Go to pub to watch Holland vs Japan. Wearing Denmark shirt. Ridiculed by all Dutch fans for Denmark defeat to Holland. Say am English. Ridiculed for draws versus USA and Algeria. Say am Swiss. No redemption as not taken seriously. Start World Cup diet with beer and pizza. Feel need for variety, so move to another bar for second game. Drink beer. Go to pool hall after game. Win decider with double kiss on black. Good day all round. Testosterone overdose after burger, pizza ,beer, pool and two matches of football in same day. Tell body to toughen up, thirteen days to go. Go to Irish pub for evening game. Denmark win evening game. Still wearing Denmark shirt. Popularity goes through roof. Everyone high-fiving me. Unusual but pleasant feeling of supporting winning team. Cover blown when approached by Danish fans and unable to instantly become fluent in Danish. Stutter and mumble that am erm English and Swiss. Crowds part before me like Red Sea. Alone again. Dance on balcony of bar overlooking Long Street. Meet four Chilean fans. Learn Chilean song. Chi-Chi-Chi! Le-Le-Le! Chile! Chile! Chile! Fabulous. Teach Chileans Swiss song. Group hugs, high-fives and all-round mutual appreciation. Rodrigo, Rodolfo, or Roberto buys round of sambucas to celebrate. Return favour.

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Chi-Chi-Chi! Le-Le-Le! Chile! Chile! Chile!

Legs out of control in dance frenzy. Approached by three well-rounded Xhosa girls and told cannot dance. Offer to teach me. Follow instructions and wave arms from side to side in air with butt moving in countermotion. Told am lost cause after thirty seconds. Atmosphere electric. Car horns blaring, vuvuzelas blaring. Flags of all nations everywhere, on trees, cars, windows, lampposts. Meet fans from Spain, Poland, Chile, Denmark, France, Italy, Australia, New Zealand, Portugal, USA. Find vuvuzela. Moment of trepidation as love/hate decision will make/break holiday. LOVE it. Makes me sound tuneful. Mental note to take vuvuzela to next mailout meeting at work to liven up atmosphere. Walk home. Huge smile on face. Thirteen days of this life remaining. Open door to motorhome. Nearly pass out from old sock fumes. Eat salt and vinegar popcorn and Twix before bed in final insult to body. Instant sleep. Win World Cup in dreams. Happy.

Home away from home