Jogo Bonito

BEDFORD ROAD: With day still bright in the night air, summer in London seems bursting in its own exuberance. I take great joy from taking the micky out this country and its tower blocks, its defeatism and its dysfunction. However, on nights like these, after days like these it all seems worth it.

I spent the morning chowing own on homemade fruit salad, played football on the common (scored a goal and played in three winning sides in case you're wondering), met the boys at this pub The Falcon with an outstanding beer garden afterwards, before settling in to watch the USA tackle the Italians in what is, thus far, a most engrossing match.

And in between games I could wander up to the shops, past the crowds of dancing Carribeans outside the bet shop, to buy a plate of jerk chicken and rice and peas that would fill the belly of the most belicose dragon.

All is, it would seem my good readers, good. And hands up if you're not loving the World Cup? The excitement and exurberance of the Aussies and the Ivorians, the breathtaking beauty of Argintians, the suprise of the Ghanians and the Equadorians and even the sadness, nervousness and general clumsiness of the English seems amusingly endearing.

The World Cup is also a wonderful time to learn about your neighbourhood. I would never have known there was a thriving Portugeuse community down the road in Vauxhall and Stockwell until the flags appeared draped from thousands of hatchbacks and delivery vans. She Bu is a riot of T&T flags and the Polish pubs proudly fly the flag. It is truly jogo bonito.