Forget the pub – the only sensible place to watch the Euros final is in the comfort of your own living room

Pubs and bars have their charm, but Will Gore looks forward to an unimpeded view of his own telly as the Three Lions take on Spain

These days I value the ability to pop to the loo without having to thread my way between 30 other people (Getty Images/iStockphoto)

England’s peculiar run to the final of the European Championships – at turns utterly dour, and completely compelling – has provided a much-needed fillip to the nation. A win this evening would provide some remarkable icing, but the cake itself has already ended up being more successful than anyone could have expected when we were drawing tediously with Slovenia a few weeks ago.

For the country’s pubs, bars and sports clubs, the success of the Three Lions has provided a particular economic boon. During this evening’s final, predictions abound about 10 million more pints than usual being pulled, providing an additional £48 million worth of trade to a sector that has struggled in recent years.

Pubs can be joyous places to take in sport. The sense of camaraderie engendered by watching a football game with mates – and indeed strangers – over a few pints is hard to beat, provided that everyone is supporting the same side; and provided that your team isn’t humbled. Even in defeat though, pubs are the ideal place for sorrows to be drowned and outraged analyses to be shared.

While it might not quite match the experience of watching live sport, a pub is about as close as you can get to recreating the atmosphere of being at the ground. By which I mean, plenty of swearing, oohs and aahs as fortunes pitch and roll, and people throwing their drinks in the air when there’s a goal. In some ways, watching in a pub is actually better than spectating live: you don’t have to worry about the weather, you’re allowed beer in view of the pitch, and you get to see slow motion replays immediately, which will occasionally show that the ref – despite his f***ing blindness – did, in fact, make the correct call.

So attractive is the idea of viewing a big game in a pub that plenty of people will make a day of it, travelling far and wide to mark the occasion. Pity those heading to London for today’s final, however: journeys on lines operated by GWR are likely to be cancelled or delayed due to staff shortages. It appears that traincrew, like everyone else, will be watching the footie. Oh, and the M25’s shut too, so don’t imagine your journey home will be any easier by car.

You might think, after having extolled the virtues of the pub as the perfect venue for the Euros final, that I’d be heading there myself. And sure enough, there are plenty of nice places near me which are advertising the size of their big screens, the deals on their beers, and the tastiness of their half-time snacks.

The truth is, however, that there comes a time in life when there is nowhere better to watch sport than from the comfort of one’s own home. The prospect of getting on a train to meet friends in the capital is – and I do not exaggerate – utterly appalling. Even the idea of watching the game at one of my locals no longer really appeals. The sense of fellowship may be different when it’s with your children, but is no less memorable (and in fact, is probably more so, since I doubt I’ll down five pints when it’s just me and the family).

What’s more, I want to have an unimpeded view thank you very much. These days I value the ability to pop to the loo without having to thread my way between 30 other people, at least two of whom will spill beer on me. As for sticky floors, my kids have had their moments over the years, but our carpets generally don’t take the soles off my shoes.

The only downside of being at home is the incessant chatter of my son, who is incapable of not providing his own commentary, interspersed with repetitive singing of his favourite Eurovision songs (his obsession with Euro-pop almost matching his obsession with the beautiful game). I’ll also have to deal with either his total hyperactivity in the event of an England win, or his crushing disappointment should we lose. I may try to insist that it’s bedtime as soon as the ref blows the final whistle, but there is little chance of that happening.

Either way, it is likely to be an evening of grand excitement, which I will enjoy from my comfortable blue sofa, with a nice glass of wine and some posh crisps in a china bowl. And tomorrow, when everyone else is at home, I might go for a quiet pint in a pub by the canal – just to calm down.