HURRAH. I’m going out to meet a couple of mates tonight. We used to do that, didn’t we? I have a vague memory of such behaviour before the plague times. So, through to Edinburgh, a bite to eat and a drink and a catch-up in person rather than on Zoom. Result.

I had hoped to catch the football too. Italy v Turkey. But it seems my companions are not that fussed. Just because your teams aren’t playing, I huffed (one’s a Scot and one’s English). Some of us don’t have that level of investment in the delayed Euro 2020. (If only Kyle Lafferty hadn’t hit the post against Slovakia in that play-off.)

For myself, I prefer the games when the home nations aren’t involved, to be honest. I’m more interested in watching Denmark against Finland or Portugal against France than England v Scotland (though I suspect I’ll watch it). It’s the exoticism I’m after.

I’m not sure who I want to win the tournament. Belgium perhaps. Just for the novelty. Though if it’s Italy or Spain or France I wouldn’t mind. Naturally, I don’t want England to win. That seems a perfectly reasonable position to take. You wouldn’t ask Celtic fans to support Rangers, would you? Why should rivalries not count at international level? And there was never a greater pleasure growing up than watching Northern Ireland beat England. (Not that it happened very often).

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That said, I’m in a slight quandary over England this time. Because I really like Gareth Southgate and a lot of this England team. At their best, they can actually play attractive football. When was the last time you could say that of England?

I also like that they are sticking to taking the knee as a gesture of solidarity (note to Scotland). And I loved the progressiveness of Southgate’s “Dear England” letter. I love that he could write, in response to those who would racially abuse English players, that “you are on the losing side. It is clear to me that we are moving towards a much more tolerant and understanding society, and I know our lads will be a big part of that.”

Go on, yourself, Gareth.

Then again, I’m hoping, that Harold Wilson’s immortal line that England only win major competitions when there’s a Labour government still holds true (Wilson was talking about the World Cup specifically, but the point stands). Can you imagine the hot air from Boris Johnson if they were to win it this time around?

Scotland? I hope you do well. But I don’t want you to win it, obviously. I’d never hear the end of it.

Football can be taken too seriously and not seriously enough during these tournaments. All too often, we measure our national happiness by how well our national team is doing, which doesn’t seem healthy. MPs and commentators will then come on and urge us to get behind a country we don’t live in, dismissing the sporting rivalries that govern such things as irrelevant. Nonsense. It’s perfectly okay to take the rivalry seriously as long as you remember it’s not serious.

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I can’t wait for it to begin. I love football because, like music, like movies, it can be a joyous thing. The great football writer Arthur Hopcraft (who, trivia fans, also adapted Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy for the BBC back in the day) once wrote: “What happens on the football field matters, not in the way that food matters but as poetry does to some people and alcohol does to others; it engages the personality.”

I’m looking forward to being engaged. And so, after tonight, I’ll be spending most of the next month in the house again. But voluntarily this time. Now, when are North Macedonia playing?