A Saturday of international rugby but that has to be earnt by a trip to the gym. So gym it is via Sainsbury to put in a prescription for my partners mother who needs a specific brand of paracetamol due to an aversion to the pill coating on most brands. That done, we hit the gym and give it our best shot. I shed 771 calories and clock up my 10,000 steps. I am mildly pleased and return home to watch the six nations rugby games.

I’v never lost the feel of the game. I can feel what it is like to step on to a field even now and to feel the cold and the anticipation of receiving the ball. Even better is the experience of the physicality as you bring down a charging forward built like a brick outhouse by tacking his legs from under him with a well-timed diving tackle. Best of all was going over for a try, especially if it is a winning try. All my rugby memories are from my time as a Grasshopper I gave up playing when I went through a run of games where I could not remember a lot of the game due to what I realise now was concussion. I apparently was reckless with my head. Marathon running was okay but never achieved the same sense of accomplishment or sense of winning as a team.

After dinner it was time to watch the Best Dancer on TV. Truly accomplished people doing incredible things with their bodies to music I’ve always thought that if I had my choices again I would have chosen dance, the only fly in the ointment is that I have no sense of rhythm, which is a catastrophic draw back for a dancer. The rest of the evening was films. A waste of reading time really but by then my gym fatigue had kicked. What was apparent was that the storm raging outside was a big one with strong winds and lashing rain. And so to bed.