Well, I'm back after a couple of weeks sampling the delights of the Mediterranean - San Miguel and Vina Sol chiefly it must be said, but I also surprised myself by dragging my bones out of bed in the mornings (well, nine out of fourteen) and plodding along the Menorcan south east coast for about 25 minutes or so. Not exactly full-on fitness training but better than nothing and it did make me feel less guilty when I ordered an ice cream for myself every time the kids wanted one.
Anything happen in my absence? Not much it appears. The anticipation grows for the start of the World Cup despite the lack of coverage in the national press (the transfer deadline business by Fulham or Crystal Palace obviously taking precedence).
Yoda Ashton has, it seems, issued a warning that England will not relinquish their RWC crown lightly, despite the lack of evidence to support his assertion or the fact that his first choice XV (whoever that may be) have yet to play together. I'll save my tournament preview for later, but I'll be pleased when the event finally gets underway and we can finally watch some meaningful international action.