Rugby World Cup 2

We went straight for breakfast. I thought there was little point trying to sleep, and anyway I was too excited. I was tired, like in one of those dream sequences, and my memory is hazy. But the next thing I knew I was down at Darling Harbour, meeting up with all my Convict relatives and getting stuck into the singing. An abiding memory is my Uncle and Cousin surrounded by maybe 400 England fans singing Waltzing Matilda. Plucky.

The game was amazing, but sickening. From someone conditioned to expect Australian victories, it was sadistic in the extreme. But this time it was different, and Jonny delivered.

A brilliant night followed as you'd expect, and next day I grabbed about 4 hours sleep and then wandered into town in my England shirt to enjoy victory. I read the Australian papers who, for once, were magnanimous in defeat.

I left that afternoon and was back at my desk on Monday morning. Quite a weekend.

There was a twist in the tail. As everyone excitedly discussed the match 'Did you see it?' I was exhaustedly flicking through the BBC website. The first photo was Martin Johnson lifting the trophy to the sodden night sky.

And the second was of a group of about 20 England fans cheering the players as they received the trophy. The photo was entitled: England fans go wild in Sydney's Telstra Stadium. And in the middle of that crowd, clear as day, was me.