If one thing's going to make me feel homesick in the USA it's the World Cup.
Eight years ago on a visit to the deep south following the big match was about as hit and miss as prospecting for gold.
I'd rush to bars only to find the screens dominated by baseball or the wrong kind of football, a game played with protective helmets and shoulder pads bigger than Crystal from Dynasty. Queries to the management would be met with knitted brows; knitted monobrows in some parts of the deep south, actually.
And given that the World Cup was being held in the Far East, the time difference proved a nightmare.
I miscalculated England's crucial game with Brazil by 24 hours but at least I missed another abject defeat.
But it's getting better slowly. Today's game between England and the USA has engendered quite a bit of interest Stateside although football remains America's sixth most popular sport. I refuse to use the 's' word because an Englishman dies somewhere everytime it's uttered.
The good news is Hampton has a British pub and they are showing the match shortly. And while it may not be quite like home I'm sure after a few overly chilled glasses of Newcastle Brown I can get over my phobia of English men in kilts and fish and chips that doesn't quite taste like the real McCoy.
And finally England has a decent manager and has thrown together a few good results.
So maybe we'll make it through a few rounds before we crash out to the Germans on penalties.