I woke at 5.30am with the sort of headache that would fell a giant troll, I drank some water and lay back down and hoped it might lift – dream on. At 7.30am Robert gave up trying to sleep though my huffing & puffing, repeated drinks of water and wriggling about trying to get comfortable on a tatami bed, and got up. It always seems a little unfair that I am disabled by a hangover, while he can bravely soldier on. Over the years he has adopted a tolerant course of action in circumstances that require a hungover wife to get her behind out of bed (or in this case off the tatami mat) and rolling in a couple of hours time.

It involves coffee, blandish food (the Lawson’s egg mayonnaise on white bread with no crusts was perfect), a hot shower (in this case a soak in the ryokan onsen), re-introduction of contact lenses to eyes, hair & make-up and then a bit of light exercise (the walk down to the station from the camp site we had to move the camper to for the next two nights, again perfect). There are usually several pauses in this process, while said wife has a funny turn and threatens to either throw up or pass out, but if sufficient gentle persuasion is employed, she usually decides it is the non-fatal variety of a hangover and rallies.

Fortunately I did rally, it could have been the doughnuts, coffees, hot bath, an hour’s sleep on the train to Oita or the first pint of Heiniken, but by midday I was up and running and in the Fanzone at Oita waiting to meet the friends arriving from Tokyo.

I did have the luxury of a seat on the 10.46 train from Yufuin to Oita and then an old friend (Japanese speaker) from Tokyo ordered a fleet of taxis to transport us to the stadium, so we didn’t have to wrestle with the shuttle bus, both of which meant I arrived ready to cheer for England, remarkable when you consider at 5.30am the humming of the fridge was too loud.

What a game, such a great atmosphere and the result we were all hoping for, well done Mr Jones et al, a great time was had by us all, and clearly the best team won.

Then it was back to the Fanzone to watch New Zealand v Ireland. Poor Ireland, I will miss your fans’ singing and chat, but again the best team won. OMG how exciting is that semi-final going to be.

It was a good job I had recovered because the train journey home (accompanied by a husband who was slightly the worse for wear) was very squashed, no hope of a seat, just a cosy corner. Though it was very jolly, at least if you were an England supporter.

The walk from the station to the camper always seems much further in the dark and late at night. We slowly lose all the other supporters as they split off to their hotels, hostels and ryokans and we are the last men standing, as we wend our way up the hill to the campsite and our beds. Lots of huffing & puffing from Robert this time and a small complaint about the lack of a kebab van when you need one. Quite amusing watching him get into the top bunk, only to realise much to his annoyance, 10 minutes later, that he needed another pee.