Rebecca ditched her date, Rose left baby daughter Abi at home with Daddy while Sara arrived blasting a vuvuzela and laden with yummy England-inspired cupcakes, writes the Shropshire Star’s “World Cup widow” Tracey O’Sullivan.

The only problem was England didn’t bring it to the party and I am in serious danger of losing the will to live at the thought of having to watch any more dire displays of what I thought football was all along – overpaid and overgrown boys kicking a ball about and rather badly.

But maybe just maybe it means I am becoming a real football fan rather than a football widow.

Normally during a World Cup I couldn’t care less what England got up to on the pitch – unless they were swapping shirts with the Italians. For me when they lost or even played badly it was just a matter of staying out of the way and avoiding that “it’s just a game” faux pas until He Who Knows snapped out of his grump at their lack of prowess on the pitch.

A real party atmposphere - well, before the kick-off

But I am feeling the frustration this morning. In a big way.

In fact I can see this sense of utter disappointment lasting throughout the weekend. I am officially gutted and possibly more annoyed than when my other half played golf, invited everyone back for lunch and left the dishes piled in the sink for my return from work.

Not a pretty sight I can tell you – the kitchen or my reaction.

And that taut face, clenched fists, steam and ears look I was working on so well that day is kind of the same one I’m going for today.

Yes, getting caught up in the build-up has a lot to answer for. My girlies and I were exchanging texts all day. Rebecca who had cancelled a birthday dinner with her boyfriend to watch a game she loathes even looked excited at the prospect of a bit of tense, nervous excitement. We had bought all the tat we could get our hands on and put the bubbly on ice – for the first of those many goals. Some hope.

The only tension bordering on excitement came when someone threw into the mix that they could possibly see the attraction in Peter Crouch. I think the resulting exchange was probably the kind that would have followed the ref awarding a dodgy penalty to Algeria.

And I won’t name the culprit because I’m sure at that point it was said out of sheer desperation to make the spectacle we had all been looking forward to vaguely interesting. Luckily we gave up on a goal probably long before many England fans and cracked open the champagne regardless.

It helped to ease the hurt – that and moving on from Peter Crouch to the merits of a certain Mr Beckham while checking up on Facebook status updates. Best one of the night – new book to be published called Where’s Wayne!

I may only have a week of hurt rather than the forty years plus but I can tell you that, right now, sticking to my football widow status looks the more attractive option. He Who Knows is welcome to the footie – Britain’s Got Talent has never let me down like this.

* World Cup Widow Tip: Whether you are watching or not ease the pain by indulging in the England-inspired and delicious delights from Queenies Cupcakery in Ironbridge (01952) 432 944. Large cupcakes £1.50 Mini cupcakes £1.