They came in their tens of thousands, under the watchful eye of the summer sun. They crammed into the silver sausages of Cologne’s trams, they formed a flotilla of Lime e‑scooters. They wobbled on hire bikes, they walked, they wound the windows down on their Ubers and sang of Phil Foden. This was England, travelling England, just don’t think too much about the football.
After 10 days of rain and sub‑par performances, this felt like the moment everyone had been waiting for: the temperature 30C in a big city with highways and parks and lots of restaurants and bars and even more kiosks where you can load up on random brands of German beer and keep the party going.
