“That's the dirtiest football I’ve ever seen.”

World Cup final: chaos v calm. Plus, a table for one at the North Star and the men who came over anyway.

Hiya 🤗

I’m gutted we got knocked out by the Argies. I popped into the Co-op last night to get some chocolate before our friendly with France and got chatting to the staff. “That’s the dirtiest football I’ve ever seen!” one of them said, twice.

He thought the referee was too lenient with Argentina, as well. And what about Tuchel’s second-half strategy - all defence. Where were Saka and Rashford?

Anyway, it’s inspired me to learn more about Argentina – Buenos Aires is on my wishlist. Maybe interview a local or football writer about the grassroots ‘Barrio’ style of play and how it’s helped them win the World Cup. During political instability, football has been a unifying force.

And the same in the UK. I’ve loved every minute of it. The faces! The drama! Sofa chats (analysis beats ads). Seeing all the flags, shirts, and hearing people talk about it has given me loads of energy. It gave the country HOPE. Things are hard right now, and we really need a WIN.

I watched the third-place playoff in the North Star in St Leonards. They have SIX TVs and it wasn’t that busy so I had a table to myself. Got a few curious glances from the guys at the bar as I was on my own. I don’t think men know what to do when a woman is sat at the the bar alone. Should I buy her a drink? Should I talk to her? Maybe I should ignore her - I’m with the missus.

Eventually, one of them came over and sat down, shook my hand and asked my name. “I saw you at the bar and thought, I must go over and talk to her.” He’s British-Guyanese, 70, born in Chelsea, raised in the Midlands. “I’m like a smartie.” He lived in south London for years but got fed up with all the gang violence so moved to Hastings.

His face lit up when he started talking about his gran who came over on the Windrush. “I’m happy she raised me - good job she did.” Really touching. He doesn’t give a fuck about getting older or politics, which made me laugh. “We don’t need ‘em. We’re just getting on with it, aren’t we?” True.

“I’m just popping to the loo.” He touched my shoulder and kissed my cheek. The guy on the next table came over. “Are you French? All the beautiful women are French?” No, but great line. He apologised for calling me his “mate”. Did you? I didn’t hear that - the telly is so loud. No offence taken.

Later on, his friend apologised. “I’m sorry he called you his mate.”

I leaned over and said, “That’s ok, mate.” And they both laughed.

On the way to the loo, I bumped into an old friend from Julieta’s primary school who was also on her own. She looked really happy. “I’m single now - living my best life! Who needs men? We’ve got toys for that.” Lol. She doesn’t mind coming here alone and hanging out with the boys as they’re all married.

Anyway, it’s a lovely pub - recommended if you’re in town. Bookshelf, board games, and I love the vintage pics of Marine Court and the seafront.

I’m proud of our boys for coming through the exhaustion, travel, altitude, and heartbreak to beat Les Bleus. Best match I’ve seen - a game of two halves and proper football, not handball. A shoutout to the players who travelled all that way and didn’t get to play - still a brilliant experience.

It’s the first time the reigning champions of Europe and south America face off in a World Cup final. Vamos España! 🇪🇸

I’m curious to see how the first-ever Fifa World Cup Final Halftime Show affects the game. This morning, I heard one of the boys outside (taking the scaffolding down on a Sunday) yell out: “Justin Bieber is playing tonight!”

The World Cup really does bring the world together. 🤗

Onwards! Only 690 days till the Euros 2028.

Thanks to Mark Jones for cheering me up with his latest essay - An Englishman’s love letter to Argentina. “Maybe we should try keeping football out of politics.”

NT xo