My children have become English patriots – and I don’t know how I feel about that

It’s a new theme: a World Cup sleepover. And that is exactly what my daughter Lola, 10, and a couple of her friends were demanding on Saturday night for the unbelievably tense England v Norway match.

It’s the first time she’s shown any interest in football. Euros have come and gone, she even missed the earlier England v Congo match and I refused to let her watch England v Mexico which ended up starting at 2am. For the quarter-final, though it was a non-negotiable, there had to be a World Cup sleepover somewhere, somehow.

I didn’t rush to suggest it at our place.

The thought of my open plan living room/kitchen being destroyed and turned into a children’s chill-out space with blow-up mattresses and empty Haribo packets is always something I can do without, however much I like the idea of them cheering on England – which, let’s face it, is a novelty.

So when her friend Balthazar’s mum offered to hold it at her house down the road in west London with Lola and her best friend, I was over the moon – and ended up watching the match with them. As they sat on the sofa, and ate brioche that another mum had packed them as snacks, I stood by the TV gripped unable to leave with my car keys in my hand. My other daughter Liberty, seven, was also cheering on England but in Earls Court at her best friend’s house.

Nothing beats that feeling of excitement – preceding triumph or heartbreak when you are united in solidarity – and my children have never experienced that communal bonding other than at sports day competing against their school houses: Paddington, Phoenix, Lovelace and Shakespeare.

This was different: it was supporting England on a global stage. Every pub we drove past on our way to the sleepover had bunting and St George’s flags up. This is a summer of love for England and it was rubbing off on my children like they were being spurted out of a propaganda machine.

I wasn’t really sure about how I felt. The truth is, of course, I’m happy we’re all experiencing the solidarity of supporting England, but I can’t pretend this sudden outpouring of love for our country is also glossing over uncomfortable truths about the real state of the UK. And it’s also provoking some pretty uncomfortable other behaviours too.

While the football is a rare, unifying communal celebration giving a sense of identity, belonging, and culture, I couldn’t help wincing when my children insulted Norway and started calling them “idiots”. Then, as soon as Jude Bellingham scored that first goal – my children may as well have been singing “Rule Britannia!” or “Land of Hope and Glory” with their hands on their hearts for their love of their country.

When Bellingham scored his second goal, they ran around screaming: “England is the best!” and “I love England!” It was odd. I’d never seen Lola patriotic before – and while I felt happy they were feeling so joyous about this team of brilliant young men, I don’t know if I can now put an England flag in the window or wave England flags out of the car on our way to school, as I am being begged to do,

On the upside, this new enthusiasm for flag-waving is no bad thing. It is reclaiming it from Reform UK and racists, who have despicably used the St George’s flag and Union Jack as symbols of national pride and shared British identity while dividing the country over racial lines. Until recently, the only time my daughters have ever seen the England flag out in full force is at terrifying far-right Tommy Robinson’s “Unite the Kingdom” marches, draped over men and women wearing red “Make England Great Again” hats.

I’d only really experienced patriotism from my late father, who had lived through the Second World War – and my children had been too young to take in his stories about air raid shelters before he died in 2024. When I asked Lola, what England means to her, she looked a bit confused and then said: “It’s a big place – and I love it. We beat Norway.”

Of course, there was a lot of joyous flag-waving of William and Kate’s royal wedding in 2011 and the 2012 Olympic Games the year after that. Then it felt like the whole country was united over a national event and there was true pride in how we could put on a show. But a decade on since Brexit, this feeling has soured somewhat. Flag waving has been something to be embarrassed about, and even King Charles’s coronation in 2023 felt more like a pious occasion than one to get the bunting out for.

For the past few years, the surge of flags being hoisted up all over the UK are seen as contributing to fear and division in communities, rather than a unifying force. This whiff of something darker hasn’t stopped during the World Cup and Oxfordshire County Council has just gained a permanent injunction to stop the flying of flags from lamposts.

But in our household, the flags are out in force and I’m okay with that; it feels like we haven’t been able to feel this unashamedly proud and patriotic since that glorious summer of sport of 2012.

Then it inspired a huge surge of civic pride and inclusive patriotism across the UK, with an opening ceremony directed by Danny Boyle – which celebrated all that was great about Britain. Team GB finished third in the medal table with 29 gold medals, which further boosted UK morale.

But 14 years on, the UK feels like a very different future. There is a soaring cost of living and my girls face an uncertain future. Brexit stripped them of freedom of movement by taking away their automatic right to easily live, work, or retire in any of the 27 EU member states. The country feels small and increasingly isolated, more interested in looking backwards to a golden past that never really existed. It’s hard to get on the UK property ladder; there’s job insecurity, student debt, and the threat of AI contributing to the younger generation’s growing anxiety that the future isn’t one to get excited about.

According to a new poll, commissioned by the John Smith Centre at Glasgow University, the number of young adults expecting their lives to be better than their parents’ had nearly halved in a year, from 63 per cent to just 36 per cent.

Maybe this explains the renewed flag fervour we are seeing today. Not only is it terribly exciting to see England get into the semi-finals, but there is a human desire to find a pocket of joy in these straitened times. Traditional British patriotism is a plaster over a wound, covering up our problems, but, complicated feelings aside, it has been a balm to see my children so happy about the country they live in.

I’m glad the flags are out in their box loads for the World Cup and we are finding some kind of national solidarity, even if it might be business as usual if we don’t win. I have everything crossed that England beat Argentina on Wednesday in the World Cup final. Come on England! We need this more than ever – hope is coming home.