The Maddest of Rugby Matches

What. A. Test. Match.

On Saturday England and Scotland met in the last round of the 2019 Six Nations to compete for the annual Calcutta Cup. From a Scottish perspective the outlook leading up to this final competitive game before the world cup, wasn’t looking too bright.

A Scottish team savaged by injuries and coming off the back of three disappointing defeats had been tasked with winning at Twickenham for the first time since 1983. Ah, ’83, a long, long time ago. So long ago in fact, that my now balding dad would have been but 12-years-old.

Since then it had been a parade of losses (and one draw) at the home of the red rose. However, lets return to the less distance past. Specifically 5.30 pm on Saturday. A time when many Scottish fans, like myself, sat covering their eyes or had switched of the telly. Half-an-hour in and England led 31-0. It looked as if the Scots would be travelling back up the A1 after going down to a cricket score.

England were desperate to win this game and who could blame them. A defeat in a epic game against Wales had put their hopes of a grand slam to bed. And just before kick-off in West London, a Welsh victory meant the title was now out of their reach. The English had shown their aggression in the last round of games, tearing apart Italy after crushing victories in their first two games against Ireland and France

It also became obvious over the entirety of the Six Nations, that the English were even more desperate to beat the Scots. They had not enjoyed a raucous Murrayfield last year and were quite rightly riled up by the unsavoury behaviour of some Scottish fans after last year’s thrilling Scotland win.

For me, the humble and long suffering Scotland fan, it had been a difficult tournament. The lads had definitely shown moments of brilliance, but this had been compounded by poor discipline and an inability to actually get across the try line.

Scotland began the Championship with a good win over Italy, but had followed it up with two games which they had lost after dominating for large periods against Ireland and Wales. The French had also put the Scots away after there had been some hope we could stop a rotten 20-year Paris losing streak. It wasn’t to be.

So now, an injury ravaged Scotland found themselves on English soil, the 61-21 defeat of 2017 acting as a hellish reminder of what could happen if we didn’t turn up. Surely for Scotland the key would be game management and damage limitation. The odds were certainly stacked against us but there was some hope. This was quickly banished.

Within the first two minutes England were 7-0 up, poor Scottish defence contributing to a training ground move which Jack Nowell gladly finished off. Not a good start but I tried to convince myself it would get better.

Nope. Within 13 minutes the hosts led 21-0, Billy Vunipola and Joe Launchbury powering over. This wasn’t good.

The blistering Jonny May followed up on this lightening start and made it 31-0 on 29 minutes. During the week I had been happy, for lack of a better word, to comment on how we would be reflecting on a convincing English victory after the weekend. I hadn’t however expected it to be this bad.

Tempted to switch the TV off I continue to watch with a couple of flatmates, almost daring England to keep scoring. Scotland looked hapless and perhaps lazy in defence. My friend messaged me saying they didn’t deserve to be wearing the jersey. Perhaps a little harsh, but he had also just switched his telly off, not willing to experience anymore of what had become almost masochist viewing.

Then in the 34th minute the Scottish hooker and captain, Stuart McInally, charged down an Owen Farrel kick and scored an epic try, out-gassing two English backs as he rampaged down the pitch like a man possessed. Was this the key turning point just before half-time.

It certainly made me decide to keep watching as it showed there was still spirt in this side. Perhaps we could peg back another score or two while shipping less tries in the second half? That didn’t seem to unrealistic to hope for.

Kicking off the second half, Scotland looked brighter and the young Darcy Graham, a player full of potential, touched down in the corner in the 46th minute. That’s better Scotland, I thought, joking this was the start of a famous comeback as I considered getting the Saturday evening boos in early.

Then three minutes later, a superb chip and run by Ali Price set up Magnus Bradbury. I suddenly sat up and stopped scrolling through the endlessly boring world of social media. Perhaps something special was happening, as with 30 minutes remaining the Scots had pulled it back to 31-19 with three unanswered tries.

Then in the 56th minute Graham scored again and all hell broke loose in the flat. Well, I got excited and so did my German flatmate, who I’m happy to report is seemingly backing Scotland in the rugby. Maybe not his best decision but something a bit special seemed to now be happening at Twickenham. The score was now 31-24.

A few minutes later and I got very excited as eventual man of the match Finn Russel brilliantly intercepted Farrel’s pass to score again. We were now level and I was desperately looking for a stress ball of sorts as I struggled for breath. An old coat hangar would have to do. Could Scotland hold out for a draw?

Surely victory was still just beyond our grasp in this surreal rollercoaster of a test match. But then in the 75th minute, Sam Johnson produced a moment of magic, finding a gaping hole in the English defence and beating several white shirts to the try line. Scotland were in the lead and I’m not sure anyone could quite believe what they were seeing.

Could Scotland be heading for victory at Twickenham for the first time in 36 years? The answer? No.

An epic defensive effort from Scotland as the clock went red couldn’t keep out George Ford as England scored a converted try to tie the most epic rugby match I, and many neutrals, have surely watched. Fortunately the old coat hangar didn’t go through the window or cause my flatmates any injury as I flung it in frustration.

Although in truth I didn’t know how to feel. For a few wonderful moments it had seemed as if an unprecedented Scottish victory was in the offing. But then it all came crashing down, as for no lack of trying the Scottish defence couldn’t prevent the hosts from crossing the whitewash. This being after they had spent 40 minutes trying to regain their first half composure which had put them 31-0 ahead.

However, disappointed I felt when Ford scored, there remained a sense of pride in this Scottish performance. In the face of adversity after a dire 30 minutes, they had shown immense amounts of flair and character to put themselves in a winning position with five minutes remaining.

Perhaps, more importantly though, it had reminded me why I love rugby. What. A. Game.

FT: ENGLAND 38-38 SCOTLAND

 

 

 

 

 

 

Weekly Ramblings

In order to continue my ‘Weekly Ramblings’ I’ve decided to change how I write. From now on they will hopefully be shorter, less formulaic and pieces on a range of subjects which I’ve written during the last week. 

Issue 8 – Big Ben: A very Late Tribute

Monday 10/03/19 (RE-POST)

I can’t remember the exact date when Mum texted me the news that my Grandmother’s dog had been put down, but I remember it flooring me. This sounds silly. I mean I’m referring to a huge fluffy golden retriever. The thing is that dumb dog was my best friend.

The reason I write about it now is I realise I never gave Big Ben a proper tribute at the time when he transcended to dog heaven about two years ago. I’m not religious, but dog heaven sounds more pleasant than whatever his fate actually was. Ask a vet if your curious.

I don’t want to call him my best friend because that wouldn’t be true. Humans tend to provide better conversation where most animals generally can’t keep up. I guess the difference is I liked Ben because he was a great listener. Perhaps not by choice a lot of the time but that’s by the wayside.

He would listen to my problems when I took him for long walks and he was always happy to see me. Even when his arthritis was really bad and he was almost completely blind he would be happy to see me. Tail wagging, tongue sticking out. He just looked happy to be alive.

It was this that actually kind of cheered me up as I sat feeling miserable in my Dundee student accommodation, having heard he had been put down. The last year or so had been difficult for me but when that dumb dog passed away I was reminded of how happy he was and this helped change my thinking. Thanks Ben.

In the moments after hearing that news I wanted to try and see my life in a more positive light. I desperately wanted to be happier again and try to enjoy living life as much as Ben did. I knew this meant taking some drastic steps in my own life and still often think about him if I’m feeling out of sorts.

I keep referring to Ben as dumb and I know this isn’t very nice. I see it as endearing though and there’s no point in pretending he was the Einstein of the dog world. Believe me he really wasn’t.

When my grandparents lived in the seaside village of Newburgh he would run for miles and miles along the beach and through the sand dunes. Running until my grandfather would shout his name over and over to no avail. I don’t think he ever did know his name.

There was also the time he nearly killed my grandmother, dragging her across the main street when a statue of a meat person outside the village butchers spooked him. This along with the time he killed a sheep by chasing it off a cliff.

Having not witnessed the poor sheep’s heroic death I had always wondered why we had left Sandend so quickly that day. This along with the day he dragged my Mum across a barbed wire fence (she still has the scars) when he was spooked by a piece of shiny material.

No, Ben didn’t have the biggest brain but he did have the biggest heart of any dog I’ve ever met and might ever meet. In his own way he also looked after my grandmother when she lost my grandfather, providing her with company around the house. So here is it Ben, a tad late, but a tribute I hope is fitting to a lovely dog.

Weekly Rambling

Issue 7 – Monday 4 March 2019

The Good

As the days gradually get longer and 2019 continues to speed past at lightening pace, the last days of the month felt very unlike February. With temperatures hitting 16 degrees in the Granite City it felt more like June at times this week.

However, despite the unseasonably warm temperatures us brave Scots carried on like usual, perhaps with a little less moaning. Though, if you want to moan about the relentless double figure heat then worrying about climate change might be a good start. Is that too political? I’ll let you decide.

Anyway, this meant I was able to cycle to uni with a shirt and shorts on, feeling the light breeze ruffle through my hair as I rode up Holburn Street and into the sunset. Well, actually onto Union Street, a danger zone of buses, buses and more buses. But I’ll get onto that a bit later.

The cycling has been mostly good though, being much more preferable to sitting in class drenched in sweat after running the three miles to Garthdee. I’m a runner by the way. No instead I just sit in class drenched in sweat with a bike helmet on my desk now.

I think the problem is I never take it easy, meaning I sweat buckets even when just sitting on a bike saddle for a short time. Swerving in and out of bus lanes and traffic at speed can be a fun but terrifying way of getting to uni cheaper faster and for less than the bus.

I’ve actually found this week I’ve been doing less running which is going in this section of this week’s rambling. Granted I would usually see this as a negative, but I think for a while I’ve been over training with little rest days. I have a big run planned this week when I head up to Braemar on Wednesday so I’ll how that goes.

In other news, there was no rugby so that was good. If you read last week’s rambling you may have the impression I’m a tad fed up of Scottish promise fade painfully away. Lets ignore my rant from last week though.

I think we’ll come good again as there’s nothing which works better than some good old Scottish optimism. The best and one of the perhaps rarest types of optimism in existence. I will admit it was a relief to not worry about the Wales game just yet though.

Attempting to ramble about something else than sport, I dressed up on Friday night as a character from ‘Grease’. You know the one with the leather jacket and the stupid hair? Danny! That one.

That’s right I actually went out shopping for something other than alcohol and food, venturing to TX Max (other stores are available) and putting about half a litre of gel in my hair. It was for a costume party my flat mate was holding and I think I just about pulled off the…Danny…Zuko (I have to keep searching his name) look, so I was pretty pleased with myself.

And don’t worry there was a Sandy there as well, but she didn’t need a man and I’m in pretty good shape already. I’ve only seen the film once but I admit I’ve heard the song a few times. You could say its catchy, but you could also say it hasn’t aged that well. I’d be tempted to say both.

The Bad

I was feeling pretty optimistic this week so there isn’t too much bad to report on. I think that’s the way the penny falls for me sometimes. I often feel the way I view my life at certain moments is often based more on my attitude than things which have actually happened to me. This is of course not always true, but I think is something which is perhaps important for me to remember.

Reminiscing about my time at school often brings back good memories of fun moments had with some great friends that I met there. This week while struggling to get a grasp of certain areas of my coursework I was reminded of some classes which I had on my black list at school.

This was a mental note of classes which I dreaded attending. Being someone who isn’t that technical, IT class was at the very top of this list. I was reminded of this while struggling to understand the Digital Media area my course which involves lots of very technical terms and knowledge of the internet.

I was reminded of a horrible moment when I prepared a piece of work for my IT teacher who after taking it of my desk threw it in the bin, claiming I must have copied it from the internet because I didn’t have the intelligence to write what had been typed up on the sheet of paper. That was low.

However, such memories are now desolate and of course unhelpful. My dream is to become a journalist and that means trying my very best when tackling the coursework. A struggle it may be but this time its only my own negativity and lack of self-belief which is a hurdle. I can definitely become a more technical person. I know its in me somewhere…

The Ugly

Cycling in the city can be dangerous. Very dangerous. I know this sounds like an obvious statement, but for someone who has spent their cycling years on rural back roads like yours truly, Aberdeen’s roads can be quite frightening sometimes.

When I first started riding the three miles to RGU I would take a longer, winding route, cycling down to Duthie Park before using the Deeside Way to take me as close to the university as possible.

Recently I have taken to cycling the faster route, perhaps out of curiosity, laziness, stupidity or a combination of all three. Union Street is seemingly the issue as bendy buses weave in and out of bus lanes, surrounded by a steady flow of traffic.

Before you accuse me of hypocrisy, I realise taking the bus is better for the environment than driving your car to which ever exciting Aberdeen destination you are trying to get to. I just think long bendy buses don’t mix that well with cyclists that’s all.

For me this problem is easily solved as I will just return to cycling the longer way to uni this coming week. I realise that means that last section was a pretty pointless ramble then, which makes it a fitting place to conclude my rambling for this week.

Weekly Rambling

Issue 6 – Monday 25 February 2019

The Good

The last week seems to have gone past very quickly so maybe this will be a slightly shorter weekly update. Here’s hoping it is less of a rambling mess than usual.

So once again the last seven days have been pretty good. Not as good as last week because Scotland were playing rugby, but momentarily forgetting about that, its been a good week.

On Monday I returned from Braemar on the bus and I’m already missing being out in the countryside. It was a pleasant surprise to realise my Monday tutorial had been moved to Tuesday and meant I could spend an extra day up the valley annoying my brother.

Poor old Mags is on reading week. When he hasn’t been reading though, he has likely spent the last week harnessing his skills on Rugby O8, a PlayStation game which he uses to inflict pain on yours truly.

Anyway, it was good to spend an extra day with him, resting my legs after the previous day’s half marathon. Did I mention I like running? Joking aside, the running has been going well this week.

I’ve been taking it fairly easy and that’s actually been quite pleasant, as its provided me with quality thinking time. Don’t worry I’ll have the meaning of life figured out in no time. Perhaps more importantly though, I’ve found my running quite relaxing this past week, which is probably the most important reason why I run.

I also managed to get my bike up and running again by actually buying a decent bike pump. Now, I just need to oil my chain a little more, as I learnt when I dropped it at a busy roundabout.

University has also been going pretty well and is likely to get better for me and my classmates this coming week, as I will be cycling to campus instead of running. This means I will be slightly less of a smelly and sweaty mess when sitting in class.

However, a downside of this is I will have helmet hair which will affect my usually flawlessly maintained hairstyle. A hairstyle maintained through using women’s shampoo followed by a dollop of hair gel which always does very little.

Its also been a week of reflection as on the 19th February last year I travelled to Fiji for two months. Its been quite interesting reflecting on the happy memories that I was so lucky to make on the other side of the world with some wonderful people.

I’ll probably go into more detail about my memories of this time last year in a separate post at some point. I’ll keep you posted.

The Bad

Well apart from the incident at a roundabout and my dreams of starring in a hair gel advert taking a dent, there hasn’t been too much bad in the last week. I don’t like speaking about alcohol too much as I don’t want to admit to being a bit of a party animal.

But I am. Big time. Anyone who bumps into me while I take the Aberdeen nightclubs by storm with the world famous ‘Finn dance’ will back me up on this. Okay maybe not everyone.

Anyway, I’m rambling again. My original point I was going to make is that I’m never touching coke and vodka again. Its taken me two years too long to realise that, like most alcohol, it is horrible and I’m never going near it again… or at least until next week.

Purchasing alcohol is also expensive (I should work for AA) and means I have gone below the amount in my account that I agreed I wouldn’t go below when I started uni. This basically means I need to saddle up and get some Deliveroo deliveries done, while wasting less money on buying sweets and alcohol.

Lastly, I took a bit of fall while running the other day while passing two concerned citizens who watched me just about fall flat on my face. They both reacted in the most Aberdeen way possible. In their heads I knew they were concerned about whether I was hurt. I just couldn’t tell by their expressions or actions.

In all honesty though, I’m technically from Aberdeen (I like being cutting edge and pretending I wasn’t born in the Granite City) and I maybe would have reacted in a similar way.

The fact my lucky green hat* fell over my eyes and momentarily blinded me probably didn’t help, perhaps making the whole scene look slightly slapstick. I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had laughed.

The Ugly 

Being a Scottish rugby fan is hard. Like really hard. After watching Scotland play rugby for the best part of 15 years, I spent Saturday afternoon feeling low.

This was after watching a comedy of the usual errors which were synonymous of the your Frank Hadden’s Scotland. Errors that had seemingly been snuffled out under the tutelage of Cotter and then Townsend.

A 27-10 loss to France at the weekend proved this theory wrong and Scotland seem destined for a worse than average six nations performance. There is still hope of course, but wins against England and Wales look unlikely. Wales coming off the back of a sensational win in Cardiff against an in form England.

However, after the game I was more disappointed but not surprised by the analysis which appeared on the Scottish Rugby section of the BBC Sport website. There is a journalist who I won’t name who seems to savour every Scottish rugby failure.

His article which attempted to promote a non-existent nasty rivalry between Ireland and Scotland before the first round of the Six Nations would have been better placed in a tabloid newspaper than on the BBC website.

Anyway, I’m glad to announce that’s my rant over and apologise that this is another long post. Maybe I need to find another sport to watch. I heard Scotland have a good curling team.

*Because of my lucky hat I remained physically uninjured, although my dignity did take a bit of a knock. 

 

 

 

Race Report: Kinloss to Lossiemouth HM

Location: Kinloss & Lossiemouth, Moray

Time: 11:00, 17 February 2019

Distance: 13 miles (approx. 21km)

On Sunday I ran my second half marathon race and was pleased to come away with a Personal Best, running the 13 mile road race in 1:32:35. Achieving this time was especially pleasing because I had failed to PB in the Lumphanan Detox 10K in January.

This was predominantly down to an alcohol fuelled Hogmanay and a lacklustre sleeping schedule in the days before that race. Gladly much less alcohol was consumed in the days leading up to this race, although my sleeping schedule was again slightly out of whack.

On the Saturday night I didn’t sleep very well, though I usually don’t the night before a race. However, I still managed to crawl out of bed at 6.15 am, which was good because race registration closed in Lossiemouth at 9.45 am.

Having this event marked in the calendar in advance, the car, which is owned in my absence by my Mum, was available. As expected the roads were quiet at that time on a Sunday morning and I made good time, arriving in less than two hours.

After registering I joined the other athletes as we were whisked away on buses to the start line in Kinloss. Surprisingly I wasn’t too nervous at the start line, having plenty of time to make the customary pre-race toilet trip.

I hadn’t put too much pressure on myself, as the Edinburgh Marathon is dominating most of my training plans at the moment. Put simply I just wanted to enjoy the race, which was taking place in a nice part of the world.

I often find the first part of the race the most difficult, as it includes a chaotic struggle for positioning and an attempt to find a comfortable pace. Finding a comfortable pace meant I ended up on my own, occasionally being overtaken by faster runners.

The first few miles of the race were ran along quite congested roads, as vehicles struggled to get past the 280 odd competitors. Although breathing in exhaust fumes wasn’t ideal, this is perhaps a sacrifice of designing a course which is fast and flat.

Happily the roads became quieter after Burghead, as the route started to follow the coast line, giving good views of the Moray Firth and the Black Isle. After Burghead, which lay near the halfway point, it wasn’t too long before RAF Lossiemouth and the sprawling town beside it came into view from the top of a slight incline.

After a long final few miles I crossed the finish line. During the race I hadn’t recorded my progress so had no idea which time I had run. I was more glad to have reached the finish than concerned about whether I had achieved a Personal Best.

I had a feeling I had ran a slow time, so was pleasantly surprised when I learnt that had been my fastest half marathon. A big thanks has to go to Moray Road Runners for organising and I would definitely be keen to return next year.

 

 

 

 

Weekly Rambling

Issue 5 – Tuesday 19 February 2019

The Good

I am pleased to report that last week was a pretty good week overall, those concerned by the slightly moody nature of my previous weekly updates will be glad to hear. And no it isn’t just because Scotland weren’t playing rugby, though it may have helped.

To be honest I have been quite a moody person recently, though I would prefer to describe myself a dark and brooding. Although the fair hair does spoil this image slightly…

So I’ll get the running news out of the way first as this is obviously something that occupies a lot of my head space. This being when I’m not thinking dark and brooding thoughts which I often do when I’m actually running funnily enough.

Anyway, an event up on the Moray Coast was preceded by a week of running to university with a bag on my back in relatively mild weather for this time of year.

With temperatures hitting double figures in the Granite City I wasn’t lacking in perspiration when I arrived for class in the mornings.

There’s only a certain amount Lynx can do and for this I apologise to anyone who had to sit beside, or perhaps even in the same room, as me.

Some of my fellow students may be thinking the running to uni is an ego trip in showcasing my sporadic fitness regime, while others may be thinking its because I think I’m cutting edge.

Its actually because I don’t want to pay the bus fare but that can be our little secret. Also when I have insisted to my family that I am cutting edge in the past my brother’s reply has been that “you barely know how to work a computer Finn.” Unfortunately he probably has a point.

The pre-mentioned event was the Kinloss to Lossiemouth Half Marathon and included an early Sunday morning (by my standards) and a solo road trip.

I’ll hopefully have a race report written up with the details of the day by this time tomorrow, but can tell you it was a good day. I managed to achieve a Personal Best and met up with my girlfriend so Sunday afternoon was definitely the highlight of my week!

In other news, on Thursday we journalism students were given a talk by local BBC Scotland reporter Davy Shanks. It was an interesting listen and really put into perspective what the job of a broadcast journalist includes nowadays.

That evening I also ventured out to Ellon and spent a lovely evening with my Grandparents who I am grateful to have so nearby.

The Bad

Returning to a many dark and brooding thought its time to delve into what wasn’t so good this week, which in an essence was my anxiety. This may be a lot more serious than usual but here it goes.

I won’t go into great detail as it is quite personal to me, but feeling anxious is a big part of my daily life and something that I’ve become accustomed too, it being particularly noticeable to me since the start of this year

I would like to think I’ve equipped myself quite well to deal with it, but often it will become slightly overpowering. I realise everyone suffers from anxiety at some point and many struggle with it to an extent that it is difficult to get out of the bed in the morning.

This is very rarely the case for me and I won’t devalue what others go through by even drawing a comparison to this. Instead for me it has been a long term thing which I feel has often held me back or meant it takes a huge effort to push myself when doing normal day to day activities.

For example, driving to Lossiemouth to run a Half Marathon had been filling me with quite a lot of dread and resulted in sleepless nights for the week preceding it. It was something I wanted to do in theory but had to push myself hard to actually convince myself to carry it out.

And when I did arrive home safely on Sunday evening I knew all the dread and worry was well worth it. All the creative outcomes in my head about crashing the car, or stalling on the A96, or getting halfway through the race and having to abandon hadn’t come true.

Yes, there were some slightly hairy moments. Accidentally pulling out in front of a poor lady at a junction was one*. Not eating enough before running 13 miles was another, but I made it through the day and had enjoyed it for the most part.

The truth is there will always be hairy moments in my life and its about accepting that I’ll learn from these, while realising that they shouldn’t affect all the exciting things that I want to get up to.

So next time I’m lying awake in bed, heart racing and mind full of negative thoughts as daylight becomes nearer and nearer, I’ll try and remind myself of this, using this past Sunday as an example of what I can do when I push myself.

The Ugly 

My music taste has always been…eh…interesting. But during the last few weeks it seems to have hit even lower standards than usual. I’ve always accepted the fact that in a family where Moby and Genesis are gospel to some (I won’t mention any names) my music taste is often regarded as being the worst.

I would argue this is unfair but scrolling through my daily mixes this week, which Spotify so helpfully compiled for me, was a truly sobering experience.

I won’t mention any of the artists (some things are just too personal) but I can tell you that I would still rather listen to P!nk on repeat for three hours than sit in a car with my Dad and brother listening to Test Match Special.

If you’ve never listened to TMS (probably likely) then think about how boring cricket is to watch normally, and then remove the moving images.

*FYI – If you’ve angered a fellow driver giving them a wave doesn’t seem to calm them down much.

 

 

Weekly Rambling

Issue 4 – Monday 11 February 2019

The Good

In all honesty I’m struggling to remember what happened in the last week that was particularly exciting. I mean I went running a lot. That’s not news. I went to university. That’s not news either is it but life isn’t always exciting so here’s what’s been happening this week.

Actually something did happen which was out of the ordinary this last week, which is exciting but doesn’t fit in with the negative mid-February vibe I’m feeling as I write this, so I’ll leave it for another time.

I guess I just want to go outside without layers (a rarity in Scotland I’ll grant you that) and feel a warm breeze on my face as I ride down country lanes on a unicorn. Is that really too much to ask? All that to look forward to in a few months I guess when the Scottish summer starts again in earnest.

Anyway, this is meant to be the good section of the blog so I’ll cut out the unfounded moaning for now. I got my exam results back and passed the first semester of university so was pleased with that.

Although I think in some areas of the course I was perhaps lacking in effort, so will thrive to work harder this semester, especially in areas of the course which I perhaps find intimidating and more challenging.

Speaking of this semester, last week we were shown around the awesome newsroom at RGU which we will hopefully as Journalism students get to use at some point. They even have a green screen on campus which is super cool.

This means my dreams of becoming the next Huw Edwards may come true yet, although I realise stepping into the shoes of the best thing to come out of Wales other than Scott Quinnel’s postcode lottery advert would be an almost impossible task.

But seriously if anyone can get me a poster of Mr Edwards to pin up on my wall I would love that. He is one of my genuine heroes. I would preferably be looking for one with a personalised message and signature but I’m not fussy.

There were also some smaller but no less significant things which happened this week. Meeting up with Dad after not seeing him for a couple of weeks was good even if I did eat all his cereal. If I wasn’t partial to a bit of Crunchy Nut (other brands are available) I would be running 35 minute 10Ks, but you only live once so…

Running wise I’ve signed up for a half marathon which is taking place this coming Sunday. This should be good fun as I’ve also been granted the car for the day which means I’m going to take a wee road trip from Braemar to Lossiemouth which will be a nice change of scene.

The Bad

Having a few beers with my mate was good but watching Scotland make mistake after mistake in the rugby was not so good. In an exciting game against Ireland we seemingly couldn’t keep a hold of the ball in the second half after showing so much promise in the first 40 minutes.

Rory and I were not pleased when Stuart Hogg was taken out off the ball by two Irish players, although its also pretty obvious the Scots were targeting Johnny Sexton amongst others, as my Irish flatmate rightly pointed out. The Italy Vs. Wales game wasn’t a great game to watch and I unfortunately missed the England game and score again.

Although in other news I’m pleased to announce my commitment to attending lectures has been second to none this semester. That’s right I’m giving myself a big pat on the back for making the arduous journey to RGU three mornings a week to attend a spattering of lectures.

This commitment meant I ran to university the other day, battling down a windy and wet Holburn Street to find that my 9am lecture had been called off. I should really get emails set up on my phone and start using the money I pay for cereal with to pay for the bus to uni. I’ll learn one day I suppose.

The Ugly

Last week I took the opportunity to have a good moan about the buses to Braemar and this actually surprisingly coincided with the news that services in and out of the village are to be stopped on a Sunday.

Hopefully this won’t happen as many villagers have made their opinions heard about this proposed move which might come into place from April. Although the buses may be quiet at the moment they are sure to bring lots of tourists into the village during the warmer months.

Also to return to a recurring theme, I’m still none the wiser about my feelings towards  nightclubs but continue to strive to push myself outside my small mindedness when Friday evening comes around every week.

The other night I wondered around aimlessly with a VK in my hand wishing I was sitting on a hill somewhere quiet while everyone went mad for ABBA. I usually do go mad for ABBA but wasn’t in the mood for some reason and was wondering if my flatmate’s confusion at why Scottish people go mad for them might be well founded.

(I watched the highlights of the England game and they were awesome. Any negativity towards their team is purely for comedy effect and you can’t help but admire the wheels* on Johnny May. I also realise a lot more than Huw Edwards has come out of Wales, though if your from the Valleys I think you should be really proud of him. Please don’t write in. – ed)

*wheels – a word hip people like my brother use to describe someone who is fast.