UNTIL yesterday the closest I had been to cold turkey was having it with bubble and squeak on Boxing Day.

But the headaches, the sweats and the sense of panic that hit me at 7.30am could only mean one thing - there was no World Cup game to watch!

For 19 consecutive days I had been feasting on a minimum of two games a day, apart of course from the opening day when France against Senegal was the only action.

The alarm had been set early to allow all work to be cleared in time for match one, the early morning offering.

During the group stages, once that had been safely negotiated there would only be a matter of minutes before game two and then a similar break to game three.

Even once the knockout phase started there were two games to enjoy with a break in between for both reflection, anticipation - and the odd bit of work.

But this week I got my first taste of life post World Cup and, frankly, I did not like it. Wimbledon, Royal Ascot, Test matches, one-day internationals, the Commonwealth Games and the Open golf will all seem like small beer this year, dwarfed by this most remarkable of tournaments.

It may now be fewer than 24 hours until kick-off in the big game between Brazil and England but I cannot wait.

I am suffering manic mood swings that would send Peter Snow's swingometer into overdrive.

One minute I can see nothing but an England win and glorious progress to the semi-finals.

The next I am wondering how on earth our boys will cope with the oppressive heat and humidity that is certainly more Copacabana than Cleethorpes.

Then an image of Rivaldo doing an over-head kick, Roberto Carlos smashing in a 35-yard free kick or Ronaldo beating four defenders wanders across the mind.

That coupled with visions of Owen limping off clutching his groin, Heskey laying the ball off into touch and Mills getting red-carded convinces me we will lose.

But in the end positive thoughts win the day.

How about Beckham delivering a free-kick to rival any by Brazilians over the years, Owen sprinting through the defence as he has done against Argentina or the wonderful Rio towering above the defence to head home a corner, this time without the aid of the goalkeeper.

I have had such a poor World Cup in terms of predictions and bets that I will not part with one penny ahead of kick-off.

I will simply adopt the routine that worked well against Argentina and Nigeria, buying bacon butties for colleagues before sitting at my keyboard and trying to type with crossed fingers.

I envy those who will be able to have a calming pint at 7.30am and trust you will all have a brilliant time.

All I hope is that my first pint, probably around 11am, will be the start of a celebration - and not drowning my sorrows!