Roy Hodgson pretty much set the tone a good hour-and-a-half before kick-off.

The England team bus had pulled up outside Celtic Park a minute or two before 6.30pm, with the Scotland supporters gathered on each side of the walkway leading to the front doors of the stadium giving out a bit of half-hearted stick to the kitmen and the lesser-known players in their Three Lions tracksuits.

A derogatory song about Wayne Rooney drifted across the still, night air. The visiting captain, still putting in his earplugs and fiddling with his iPod in his seat, was the man they were waiting for. As it was, the welcoming committee got two for the price of one.

Rooney appeared, flanked by his manager, and the jeering was turned up to 11. Hodgson flashed a beaming smile. He lapped up the catcalls on the short walk up the front steps into the foyer. Intimidated? Not a chance of it.

The 67-year-old comes from an era in which English ventures north of the border really did mean something and this one, the first in 15 years, clearly meant something to him.

Old Roy, the embodiment of a man in his element, had everything under control. As the 67-year-old drank in the atmosphere on the tarmac outside the ground, his players would, quite visibly, share his appreciation of the renewal of hostilities between the Auld Enemy on the lush, green turf inside.

England won easily. Too easily, in truth. Not even Andy Robertson's late effort was capable of making it a contest.

The decision of Gordon Strachan, the Scotland manager, to play 10 of the 11 men who worked so remorselessly for that uplifting one-goal win over the Republic of Ireland, may have been part of that.

The players did not look as sharp as they did last Friday night. If there was a little tiredness in the legs, they can be forgiven. The efforts put in to earn that crucial Euro 2016 qualifying victory were quite Herculean.

The only change Strachan made was enforced upon him with Chris Martin of Derby County replacing the injured Steven Fletcher. It is hard to detail any positive results that came from that alteration to the line-up, but it was instructive all the same.

Martin, going by his club record, is a decent goalscorer. He is a nice option to have on the bench, but he does not possess the touch, technique and movement of Fletcher and cannot make the same contribution to Strachan's overall philosophy of quick passing and link-up play in the final third.

Martin, in fairness, barely got a decent ball delivered to him before being replaced by James Morrison at half-time. He never once made it stick, though, and was frequently dispossessed.

Scott Brown, the new captain, also made way for Darren Fletcher, the old captain, at the break. The second 45 also showed just how important the Celtic midfielder is to the way we want to play. His aggression, drive and footballing ability has become an essential element in the nation's rebirth.

Of course, there is also the fact that Scotland were facing a team with much more to offer than the Route One tactics and low-level thuggery of the Irish. Danny Welbeck did try to turn it into a one-man kicking match for a little while in the first half with some exceedingly rash challenges on Shaun Maloney, Steven Whittaker and Russell Martin.

Over the piece, though, England took care of us with the minimum of fuss. The game also offered suggestions that, as much as we are improving, there remains a distinct fragility in our defence. Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain's opener was a delightful header from a terrific delivery from Jack Wilshere, but he was given time and space to think about his run and finish.

The bout of bagatelle that preceded Rooney's header at the start of the second 45 was reminiscent of the defending that rendered all that excellent work in Dortmund back in September largely worthless.

Conceding a second to the Manchester United forward just moments after getting back into it at 2-1 was scandalous.

The nature of the loss to the English is disappointing, but need not be looked upon as a setback. Indeed, we should be thankful we have our national team back involved in fixtures that have the public so engaged. It feels like we have some proper, big football matches to watch again in the wake of a grim spell on the international stage and a chaotic one at club level.

The punters need to put in a little more work on recreating something to match the 'Hampden Roar' of old, though.

Much had been made, as it always is, about a 12th man inside the stadium. The never-ending hyperbole that surrounds modern-day football had us believing we would be subjected to noise levels equalling the 1883 eruption of Krakatoa.

We weren't. This wasn't even as loud as Hampden Park in 1999.

Let it be said, the atmosphere was good. Booing, for example, certainly appears to be flavour of the month within the Tartan Army at the moment and that is to be encouraged. Giving poor old Aiden McGeady a verbal battering last Friday night must have got the juices flowing because all manner of folk got it in the neck last night.

There was Hodgson and Rooney on the way off the bus, the English team as they appeared for the warm-up, the 5000-strong away support as they treated us to the first chorus of "Ing-err-luund", the St George's Cross as it was carried towards the halfway line for the anthems and then, of course, God Save The Queen.

The problem is, the England supporters won the singing contest going on off the field of play as well. When the initial hubbub had died down and it became clear that we were struggling to even lay a glove on Hodgson's side, a good percentage of the noise and the more inventive chanting most definitely came from the corner of the ground reserved for the visitors.

Yes, there was a rather odd spell during the first half in which the England fans chose to voice their opinions on the delicate matter of politics across the Irish Sea. No-one quite knew what to make of it.

It was rather like playing 'Relax' by Frankie Goes To Hollywood at a children's party. Inappropriate and really rather bamboozling.

For all that, they did join in the minute's applause pre-match for the late Nathan McSeveney, the 20-year-old from Cumnock who died after falling down a stairwell inside Celtic Park following that win over the Irish, with a respectful vigour and deserve a bit of credit for giving a new twist to an old favourite with "Cheer Up, Gordon Strachan".

Chants of "Are You Scotland In Disguise?" during the more one-sided moments of the second half were a little dispiriting, but we'll be back. We're only starting to grow stronger. We'll show them. Bring them on at France 2016.