The time is 07:20 in the first part of the day and you're sat on a hard, wooden floor clearing work off of your eyes, yawning as what is somewhat aggressively named 'the enormous television' is wobbled out up front. The whole interaction is risky.
An instructor turns it on. It needs to heat up first. You pause. Abruptly there's static. A monotonously sluggish parchment initial up and afterward back down through the channels to BBC One.
Britain are going to play Brazil On the planet Cup and you're going to watch it before school and everything feels unlawful in some way. It seems like this is the best thing that has ever, at any point occurred.
You don't yet have any idea what agony and sorrow prowl as Danny Plants' uncovered head shines in the Shizuoka daylight. Come on Britain, you can make it happen.
You're watching your heroes David Beckham and Michael Owen with all your friends and England are about to beat Brazil in the World Cup