Wales against Belgium was the best match, Ireland's goals were the best moments.

But the highlight was the couple of days I spent in Marseille before the tournament started. The sun shone, the city was beautiful, and the Punch and Judy show between English fans ("F*** off Europe!") and French police provided some comic relief.

I remember it now as an altogether more innocent time, a day or two before the terrifying Russian hooligans arrived with their GoPros and combat training, and a couple of weeks before the English voted to tell Europe to f*** off for real.

Most of the tournament would be spent watching defensive teams shadow-boxing in muggy stadiums under brooding overcast skies.

It never quite lived up to the sun-drenched anticipation of the day before it all began, but that was always going to be difficult.