No excuses, I’m a bad blogger. I think it’s the weather; it’s hot in Deutschland.

Tomorrow night Germany are playing Turkey in the semifinal of Euro 2008. I decided a while ago that, much to the horror of many back home, in particular my dad, in the absence of England I would throw my wholehearted support behind the German national team.

Last week we watched Germany against Austria in an underground stone room at the Hausbrauerei (that’s where we were, not the game), which looked something like this:

It was a long thin room with the big screen at the far end, behind which was a huge silk flag. The walls and tables were decorated with red, black, and yellow, and patriotism was rife. Germany had to win to stay in and it was just about sweaty and airless enough down there to make a rather dull game quite tense.

Having made it through the group stages, we went to watch Germany’s quarter final match at the Schlosshof (nicer than it sounds) in town. This is a gated, open-air area of the park and there was a big screen and a bar; it was crowded. In a good way.

This was my view for most of the game. I heard and felt all of Germany’s goals—every time beer splashed in my face and my toes were jumped on I knew they had scored---but I had to watch them on the news the following morning as my vantage point offered almost nothing in terms of live viewing.

I wore my half-England half-Germany scarf that I got at Wembley last year with the England half subtely covered until everyone was too drunk and too busy celebrating the 3-2 win over Portugal to notice. It looked to be close; Portugal fought hard to find the third goal and Denis nearly had a fit when four minutes of extra time were added but fortunately it wasn't enough.

It was a very different, and more enjoyable, experience to watching England play. I didn't spend the entire first half watching through my fingers and the second half worrying about penalties.

Sadly for Guido, who until Saturday had the air of superiority wafting around him after Holland's performance in the group stages of the tournament and would take it upon himself to dispense patronising advice and snide comments to those of us whose teams didn't qualify this time, Holland crashed out of the Euros at the weekend.

We watched the game at Zoran's house, where Guido spent much of the evening quite literally on the edge of his seat, muttering to himself and suggesting at regular ten-second intervals that the ref really ought to recognize when a yellow card should be issued.

Not a happy Dutchman

But they got beat, he sulked for two days, and has now decided to wear his Holland shirt to tomorrow night's game: a bold move.