There's a deathly hush in the gym tonight

I've never seen it so empty, even on a Friday. Only a handful of machines were in use; the mat had one lone body doing situps; and even the weights room was deserted -- just me, my physio, and a guy in an England shirt. As I cycled home at 6.30, the streets were largely empty, the Overtoom bereft of traffic, the deli shuttered. You could occasional cries from behind closed doors, but otherwise, think 28 Days Later -- complete with marauding hordes of orange-clad men. Yes, there was a deathly hush in the gym tonight as everyone huddled round the TV screens and watched Holland beat the Ivory Coast 2-1. Good goals, although the second Dutch one had a whiff of offside about it to me. Oh well.

Actually, not everyone was inside. I had to weave my way through a throng outside the frat house along the canal. The twits who live there were largely urinating into the canal, throwing glasses of beer at passing boats, or admiring each other's (identical) preppy frat-boy outfits -- all far more interesting than the football, apparently. Tossers.