It was quiet at Sunderland station on Friday afternoon, and quiet all the way up Union and South Streets and quiet all the way along to Keel Square, where the World Cup was hidden, waiting around the corner like a surprise party. There three, four, five thousand or more were bouncing up and down while a stout lad with Spandex trousers, a sequined jacket and serious pipes was belting out the opening notes of We Will Rock You on the big stage while his band thrashed away behind him. If everywhere else around town was empty, it was because everyone was here. It was a hell of a way to start a World Cup.
“Let’s show them how we do it in the north-east!” shouted out the Mackem Mercury as he set a carnival parade off marching over the bridge towards the Stadium of Light for the kick-off.
