Maybe it's the lack of sleep caused by the late-night celebrations and early kick-offs in the Far East that has left us feeling delirious, but doesn't it feel great to be British again?

OK, so those Republicans among us may have squirmed uncomfortably through the four-day Jubilee jamboree.

England's success last Friday didn't go down so well among our Argentina-supporting neighbours in Scotland and Wales.

And pedants could easily point out that Lennox Lewis is as British as maple syrup or a horse-riding, Stetson-wearing Mountie.

But wherever you look, from high street stores to home and cars bedecked in red, white and blue bunting, the feel-good factor is back.

So what if the summer is coughing and spluttering into life?

So what if the trains are as reliable as a Stephen Byers promise?

And so what if we allow our head to rule our heart just briefly and secretly fear the worst ahead of tomorrow's game with Nigeria?

People in this country who work hard, who toil day and night for little or no recognition, must despair at times.

One minute, a woman who leads a comfortable life bankrolled by the public is feted because she's been lucky enough to be in such a privileged position for 50 years.

The next, a fella with a questionable taste in haircuts and dress sense is being put forward for a knighthood, purely because his penalty found a fortuitous way past an Argentina goalkeeper.

There is also the vexed moral issue of how someone who legally knocks seven bells out of someone else can be hailed a hero.

But the past seven days have done something that no end of sunny days or trains running on time could ever manage: they've got the nation smiling again.

There were a million reminders - one for every person who jammed The Mall last week - of why the Royal Family remains such an intrinsic part of British life.

And then there was the football. Nothing bonds the country like a World Cup campaign. Every four years, a population that sometimes seems embarrassed by its nationality suddenly sheds that reticence and throws itself full-length into backing Our Boys.

Check out the crosses of St George that are taken out of mothballs when we do battle with those nasty, sneaky, cynical foreigners.

Check out the number of women wearing T-shirts with football emblems and emblazoned with such cheeky phrases as "Nice tackle".

Just as we were all at a depressing nadir following England's even more depressing second-half display against Sweden, so the zenith that came after the Argentina game exceeded everyone's wildest dreams. The old England and the new England have dove-tailed to stunning effect in the last week.

The pomp, pageantry and tradition of the Royal Family, combined with some long-awaited Argie-bashing, has left the country in a permanent party mood.

Lewis's demolition of Mike Tyson, reaffirming his status as the world's greatest heavyweight, has just added to the wave of national pride that has swamped this green and pleasant land.

Let's just hope Nigeria don't prove to be the most unwelcome of party-poopers.