It was definitely one of the best World Cups. Not just for the football, but because of the hosts. It gave the world an insight into South Africa that has shattered preconceived stereotypes about racism and poverty and violence and portrayed the country and the African continent in all its magnificent complexity.

We got more lessons about Africa through football stories and from the many documentaries that accompanied the primetime, mass-audience matches, than we have ever been exposed to before. Not some happy, shiny unreality, but an always enlightening glimpse into the hardship and the hope, as well as the diversity of this country.

The optimism and self-belief were genuinely uplifting. The fans' testimonies to the warmth of their welcome were unstinting and must surely translate into a major increase in tourism in future years as curiosity in the African continent is awakened.

We weren't there as a team, but the competition was so full of off-pitch incident it allowed us to delight in our passion for revenge and schadenfreude from the sofa. The French meltdown was particularly satisfying, but so, too, was the chance to crow at England's humiliation, though even that, like the team, has gone soft in the middle. It gave us the vuvuzela, a dodgy ball, lots more Après Match and something to put a bet on just for the fun of it.

But most of all, South Africa's welcome to the world was totally charming and disarming.