Come on England or Heja Svergie?

They say that when the gods want to punish you they answer your prayers. At the beginning of this World Cup I was thrilled (being half Swedish) to have two teams in it. If Sweden don’t make it past the group stages (and why would they?) I’ll have England. When England lose on penalties, I have Sweden to fall back on. I have supported each teams with equal enthusiasm from the beginning, watching every match, wearing the appropriate colours, singing both national anthems with pride and joy. 

On Saturday though I have to decide which one to root for. It’s no good just being happy whoever wins because, as any football fan will know it’s no fun without the agony and/or the ecstasy. Do I go with the country I grew up in, where I was born or do I opt for my home, where I’ve lived and worked for the last thirty years? Being Swedish is being part of an exclusive club of around 9 million people (0.1 per cent of the world’s population) who are always unaccountably thrilled to meet a compatriot. It wasn’t until IKEA took over the world that anyone had heard of us. In fact I was delighted when, in their last match, Sweden played Switzerland because some people don’t seem to know that they are different countries. Sweden is a nation that is ferociously proud of its heritage; ABBA, pickled herring and Midsummer frolicking. When I see the blue and yellow flag I always feel a pang of something between homesickness and pride. But England is my home, my husband is English, my children are English (even if they speak a smattering of Swedish) and, as a Chelsea fan, my footballing roots are here. 

So will it be ‘come on Engerland‘ or ‘Heja Svergie?’ I don’t think I can quite stop myself favouring an England victory. I have suffered enough heart-breaking penalty shoot-outs to feel I deserve some success. But if Sweden win, I won’t be totally distraught. And then once they get knocked out? Well then there’s always France…