TRUMPETS, vuvuzelas and car horns blared long into the night, in between the songs of jubilation, as thousands of London’s Spanish residents and tourists celebrated their football team’s historic first World Cup by taking over the West End.
Even the policemen stood aside while the famous statue of Eros was scaled by hordes of flag-waving Spaniards, together with a pair of rival fans wearing incongruous orange shirts (Dutch courage?). No wonder the crowds at one point began chanting “Piccadilly, Español”.
The throng in the streets below Eros contained a good many Brits supporting Spain, plus, if the messages on El País from around the world are anything to go by, plenty of London’s Latin American community as well.
And it’s a pleasure to report that there wasn’t a single hint of trouble – the occasional encounter with wandering pockets of Dutch fans passed off amiably, and even though vast quantities of alcohol were drunk, there was no sign of drunkenness.
The reign of Spain
On Sunday, their footballers passed their way to glory. But when it comes to food, fashion and architecture – not to mention sun, sand and sea – the Spanish have long been world champions, says Simon Calder