The house has had one thing on its mind.

Someone pinned the Mexico 86 poster to the wall back in March and nobody took it down. That should have been the signal. By this week the whole house had shifted. The World Cup is days away and we've stopped pretending we're thinking about anything else.

There's something that happens in a room when a tournament like this gets close. 

Conversations that started about colour palettes ended up somewhere near Pelé. A discussion about kit design ran for two hours on Tuesday and nobody looked at the clock. 

The house has always believed that football and culture speak the same language when both are at their best, and right now every reference we've been sitting with for months is starting to feel like evidence of that.

The mythology of this game gets under your skin in a way that's hard to explain to someone who hasn't felt it. The Telstar. The Hand of God. The boy with goalkeeper gloves slightly too big for his hands. These things don't stay in the sports pages. They move into the culture and they stay there, the way the best brand work does, the way the best music does. By meaning something beyond what they literally are.

The house grew up with this game. This week it shows.

Third espresso in, something on in the background that sounds like a stadium filling up.

A sharp shot of the good stuff. It's nearly time.

Ps. Before you ask. Yes. It’s coming home. 

Shot of the good stuff.