I'm as English as you get. Stuart Pearce is my hero. I fly the flag from my house during tournaments and I lose my mind supporting England. I cry when we lose, I cry even more when we win.
Of course there's a rivalry with Scotland (and Wales and Ireland) and I'm always jealous if a home nation does better than us.
But I'm delighted for Scotland. I've got too many Scottish friends to not want them to experience the joy of going to a World Cup. Excellent players like Andy Robertson and Scott McTominay deserve to display their talent in the greatest sporting event on earth.
The temptation is to get prickly about the rivalry. To react to the more provocative elements, those who support Scotland 'and whoever England are playing'. To think 'well you never want us to win, so why should we want you to win?'
But that's choosing to accept the most negative embodiment of our neighbours to justify our own small-mindedness. It happens the other way round too. Celts who relish being beastly about the English can invoke hooliganism, racism or whatever else they want to tarnish 55 million people with.
The reality is more subtle. In the last few tournaments loads of my Scottish pals have been supportive of England, especially in the Southgate era. Similarly, my mum always wanted the home nations to do well. We cheered for Ireland in '94 and we went barmy when John Collins scored against Brazil in '98.
Whilst plenty of people will identity with this, it's not necessarily typical. It is a rivalry. It's normal for Scottish fans to want England to lose and vice versa. I don't want Derby to win. Ever.
Most of it is banter. We should be able to give and take it.
Last night's game was everything you want from a high-stakes football match. Drama, injustice, absolutely mega goals and the release of tension after years of desperately wanting something.
I'm delighted that Scotland have qualified so that they can go to the World Cup and experience the thrill of playing on the greatest stage of all.
And then watch England win it.