Precisely one week to go before the final. And it's down to the last eight. Here in Accra, Ghana took on Nigeria.
In the prelude to the clash I did some work for Monday's programmes. And I pondered the state of my stomach. It's not alcohol because I'm drinking nothing but water. Maybe that's the problem. The ailments go by lunchtime. But I do eat with anxiety.
Maybe I should try a knife and fork.
I confidently predicted earlier on the 5pm broadcast that Nigeria would win on penalties.
After 25 minutes my analysis of the match for the 6pm programme was that if Ghana failed to capitalise on their sustained pressure, then they could be hit.
Five minutes after I went off the air. Ghana were 1-0 down. My I felt smug.
After they equalised I thought it was heading for penalties. I thought I should have called a bookmaker with these sorts of powers.
But then the Ghana captain John Mensah was sent off for a professional foul and the hosts were down to 10 men.
Suddenly they were the underdogs and that was a weight off their shoulders. Nigeria didn't go for the kill (obviously waiting for the penalty shoot-out).
Ghana won 2-1 without the drama of penalties. They're into the semis and will be up against either Egypt or Angola.
I'm heading off to see that match in Kumasi on Monday. I'm going to take a plane this time. It's only 45 minutes.
But I haven't seen the plane. And I haven't seen this particular episode of The Saint which is running on the TV at the moment.
Roger Moore has got a cool convertible in Italy and there are couple of thugs on his trail who obviously want him out of the way.
What I like in The Saint are the backdrops. And the British actors putting on Latin accents.
What I really liked was Simon Templar's Volvo PT1800. When I was thinking of buying a car I almost bought one. I went for the Peugeot 304s cabrio instead.
It was the cheaper option. Flying to Kumasi tomorrow is not the cheaper option. But it is the logical one.
I better not get started on Star Trek.