Arriving in Lisbon

To get here, I had to first drive my van through France - on D-Day no less. Saw a few flags on show but England had been awash with them, even in Chipping Sodbury.

The Gods wanted us and France in the final in a re-run of that first meeting on the second day.

Them tournament was young and the Estadio da Luz was turned in to a bowl full of flags of St.George. France hurt the Three Lions in the end, nicking it in the final moments.

An ageing old bunch of rockers were on the stage beside the big screen after the match when a core of English, plus some Swiss and some Portuguese, decided to stay and have a drink and a jig.

The band were still there, three hours and eleven encores later, mistaking choruses of We're Not Going Home as band adulation.

"You want …more?" the singer asked in astonishment, fondling his greying pony-tail.

And on to Coimbra...

It had been the hottest day of the year (so far). England had thumped the Swiss. Fans were jumping in the river.

Over the curvaceous bridge, in downtown Coimbra, ancient capital, the English Crusaders were on the march, never once drawing sword in twitchy pointless combat.

As many as 80,000 England fans were here, and loving it. And being loved.

The Portuguese admire if not love the English. Deep down, theirs is one of the longest lasting accords between any two countries.

Surely we would meet in the quarter-finals, at Luz, on 24 June?. And surely we would do the decent thing, knock them out, and take over the mantle of hosts?

And so to the quarters...

When England’s new talisman hobbled off before half-time in the quarter-final, England’s cause was lost.

Now it was for the Portuguese and the Czechs to accelerate, quick-step, to the final. Two nations in momentum.

These were for them the best of times: growing economies, political stability, their people hard-working and growing in confidence. And with a great sense of belonging.

The football was good too. Portugal with the newly-crowned club Champions of Europe, Porto, and the Czechs with the European Player of The Year in the shape of Pavel Nedved.

In the end though, the wonderful Greeks upstaged them both and provided us all with a shock winner, maybe even a bigger shock than Denmark in 1992.

Unlucky England, but who knows come Germany and the World Cup in two years time?

Stuart Clarke is a professional football photographer

To go to his website, click here
For exclusive shots from Euro 2004, visit his special tournament section by clicking here.