Wednesday, 19 September 2007

Blast from the past

Sorry I haven't posted for a few days - I've been updating Women's Rugby Review (which hasn't had my full attention during the Rugby World Cup, I admit) and decorating my son's bedroom, a project which is increasingly akin to the Forth Bridge. Given the amount of time it's taking, anyone would think he had a massive palatial bedroom but, no, it's just an average sized single room which is taking an inordinate amount of time to decorate, mainly due to the fact that I'm painting over some very bright colours with a more understated pale blue.

Enthralled and fascinated as you undoubtedly are by my tales of decorating woe, the reason I mention it is that while up the step ladder I had a peek into the loft space which is accessible via my son's room and discovered a load of old junk deposited there when we moved in 12 years ago, amongst which were some ancient rugby photos featuring yours truly.

These records of a bygone era will therefore be making an appearance on this blog from time to time and to start you off here's one of me from circa 1982 as a 17 year old Peterborough Colt, leaping salmon-like to tap a lineout ball in the general direction of my scrum half (I hope). Note the absence of lifters (or for that matter any support players) - back in the middle ages we had to get airborne under our own steam, believe it or not.

Speaking of lineouts, I received my very first tutorial in the art of lifting at training last night as we ran through the club's lineout routines. We practised lifting, catching and driving for about half an hour or so which was reasonably informative and interesting but which in all honesty mostly involved standing around watching and listening. Fair enough I guess, but having only had a short 15-20 minute practice match beforehand it didn't feel like I'd had much of a physical workout - so much so that I went out for a 25 minute run this morning which is more or less unheard of. What I do have this morning is a bloody sore shin - some young lad thought it would be great idea to back-heel a ball coming his way without realising that I was standing right behind him, the effect being that he whacked into my shin with his studs. Nice.

Afterwards I established with the bloke organising the 2nd XV that, for now at least, I was available for Vets only. Injury last week ruled me out of the 2nd XV game (in which they managed to scrape a 64-0 win despite my absence) and, having thought it through a bit more, I decided that one fixture a month for the Vets would be sensible planning on my part, especially given my injury record.

Now, where did I put that paintbrush?

No comments: