Six Nations 2019 Preview

With the Six Nations only a week away we interviewed armchair expert and former Deeside RFC Under 8’s legend Finn Nixon…

What is the Six Nations?

The Six Nations is an annual rugby tournament contested between the best international sides in the Northern Hemisphere and Wales.

Who are the Six Nations?

England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales.

And who is most likely to win? 

Last years’ Grand Slam winners, Ireland will enter the 2019 championship as favourites after an incredible victory over New Zealand in the Autumn. With three provinces in the European Champions Cup and an awesome starting XV they are surely the ones to watch.

Ireland are however likely to face a tough challenge from Wales who are on an unbeaten run of 11 games after a strong Autumn. An Autumn in which they ended their 13 game losing duck against Australia. Defensively they look very strong.

England are also likely to challenge for pole position after a disappointing campaign last year in which they finished 5th. Eddie Jones has begun the mind games in earnest but it will be interesting to see how the English perform in Dublin on the 2nd February after mixed performances in the Autumn.

What about the other nations?

France will have to improve massively if they are to challenge for the Six Nations trophy after losing to Fiji in Paris in their last game. Overall, they have been notoriously poor in recent years, last finishing in the top half of the table when they were winners in 2010.

Meanwhile, Scotland will be underdogs to win the title and would probably be pleased if they won three games. They would hope to beat Italy and should probably be aiming to beat France in Paris for the first time since 1999.

Italy won’t win the Six Nations but are improving under Conor O’Shea who will be hoping his side can cause some upsets. Perhaps at  Murrayfield where they have had success in past years but also maybe in Rome against the always unpredictable France in the last round.

What will likely happen?

The Six Nations are always unpredictable and it would be wrong to suggest that anything is set in stone before any rugby is played. We could perhaps predict Italy will finish with the Wooden Spoon though, an unwanted award they have been given since 2016.

As always the only prediction we can make about France is that Jacques Brunel’s side will be unpredictable. Prepare yourself for an incredible one-off performance in which they dismantle England, Ireland or Wales before being beaten by Italy or Scotland in a dismal performance.

From a Scottish perspective it pains me to say we are highly unlikely to beat England, having not beaten the Auld Enemy at Twickenham since 1983. Though you never know eh?

Also expect fireworks in post-match press conferences as Eddie Jones plays mind games, Warren Gatland looks eternally grumpy and Joe Schmidt seems far to nice (apparently he is terrifying on the training field!)

So what are your predictions for the final standings?

My predictions? Well thanks for asking!

  1. Ireland – 4 wins
  2. Wales – 4 wins
  3. England – 3 wins
  4. Scotland – 3 wins
  5. France – 1 win
  6. Italy

Ooh interesting so it comes down to bonus points and no grand slam?

Yes. I think Ireland will score more tries than Wales. This would make for an exciting final day as Wales and Ireland would be playing for the championship. I predict the Welsh will win that game but that won’t be enough for them to take home the Six Nations trophy.

And how would you want the table to finish?

  1. Scotland
  2. Ireland
  3. France
  4. Italy
  5. England
  6. Wales

What is your problem with Wales?

It is with a certain amount of guilt that I admit my dislike of the Welsh rugby side. Since becoming a Scottish fan they have caused me a great amount of pain. I have never forgotten that horrendous game which Scotland threw away in the dying minutes in 2010. Damn you Lee Bryne and that football-esqe dive!

Which games are you looking forward to the most?

Games in which England, Ireland and Wales are going to head to head are likely to make great viewing. From a Scottish perspective I would like to see us beat France in Paris, something I think we are finally able to achieve. It will also be fascinating to see if Scotland can challenge Ireland at Murrayfield.

And which games are you least looking forward to?

Scotland’s trip to Twickenham looks ominous as always, particularly after the 61-21 blowout in south-west London two years ago. I’m also anxious about the Welsh game at Murrayfield. My heart says Scotland while my head says Wales.

Thanks for your concise and intelligent expertise. I’m looking forward to a Scottish grand slam.

Anytime. That’s the spirit!

(Don’t worry I haven’t totally lost my marbles – Ed.)

Weekly Rambling

What’s this I hear you ask? Well its an idea which includes telling whoever is unfortunate enough to have stumbled across this, some random thoughts on a weekly basis.

These thoughts will attempt to correspond with the previous week and will be posted every Monday. Also a quick warning this is likely to contain a significant amount of rambling which will hopefully make some sense.

Issue 1  – Monday 21 January 2019 

The Good

So what’s been happening in the last week? Well, I’m back in Aberdeen, having fled the cold but beautiful Braemar and been doing lots of running. You know, for a change. My training has however been increased as I look to improve my fitness for the Edinburgh Marathon in May.

This will be my first ever marathon and although I already feel a sense of absolute dread and meaningful regret, it’ll be alright. Its a great aim to have and will hopefully be followed by the Highland Cross in June.

And if my training is going well I may even consider signing up for the Larig Ghru Race, a 27 mile epic through the Cairngorm mountains from Braemar to Aviemore. Watch this space.

That’s probably enough about my unimportant hobbies which I never prioritise over any more important stuff like… University, which will be resuming again at the end of the month. This is quite exciting as one of the modules I’ll be doing this upcoming semester is Broadcasting.

As a journalism student I often naively forget that there is so much more to being a journalist than expressing yourself through the written word. In fact I’ve always held onto the idea that I want to be an anonymous disc jockey, damaging the airwaves in the wee hours when most people are sleeping.

However, I’m not sure this module will include radio broadcasting but it is sure to be interesting. Actually, looking through my ‘Your Top Songs 2018’ on my spotify makes grim reading and I likely shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a platform in which I’m allowed to play music.

The Bad

In an attempt to keep these posts light, I likely won’t bore with you any existential crisis’s or hugely negative experiences I am having. So on that note, I only have three small complaints about the last week.

One complaint is that I need to fix a bell to my bike and pronto as I am becoming tired of shouting at poor pensioners along the Deeside Way, trying to be friendly while not scaring the living day lights out of them.

My other complaint is that I’m fed up of being told I’m quiet. I know I’m generally a quiet person and don’t need you to tell me while interrupting a perfectly good daydream I was probably having.

Parties might not be an appropriate place for daydreaming, but I am always trying to improve my social skills and will hopefully become less quiet as time goes on. Although sometimes I’m tempted to remind people that being obnoxious isn’t much better.

Finally, ‘Game of Thrones’ (the book) is too long. It just is. Although entertaining, the last 50 pages of the first book have been a real struggle and would have been labelled by my late grandfather as “affa slow”.

For some reason I opted to read the books over watching the show and the sex and violence, which I’ve gathered is a significant reason why people watch ‘Game of Thrones’, isn’t as prevalent in the book. Although it still does make for interesting reading, even if I do worry about George RR Martin.

The Ugly

Alcohol, although a staple of many students’ lifestyles, has done me some damage recently. It has done damage to my head, stomach, ankle, dignity and stuck up attitude about not going to Mcdonalds.

I seem to be either drinking too much or becoming less tolerant to alcohol. Neither are good developments, especially as I try to increase my running mileage and…focus on my studies…more importantly.

Nightclubbing update – still finding it fascinating while trying to enjoy the experience. Apparently my dancing has improved ten fold. There is still time.

 

 

Race Report: The Lumphanan Detox

Location: Lumphanan, Aberdeenshire

Time: 11:30, 2nd January 2019

Distance: 10K

 

Usually I stand at the start line of the Lumphanan Detox feeling a few pounds heavier perhaps, but confident and feeling physically fit all the same. This year was slightly different.

Yes, I still a good level of fitness, safe in the knowledge that my leg muscles were as strong as they’ve always been. As usual I had eaten well over the festive period and felt a little heavy, but this wasn’t too concerning. No, the problem was I didn’t feel good. At all. In fact I felt sick to the gills.

As the race started and the chaotic jostling for position began I knew I just wanted to get around in one piece. This surely wouldn’t be a year for tumbling any records.

Running past the crowds gathered beside the village hall I couldn’t help but smile about the fast approaching hill which comes within the first two kilometres of the race. This was going to be fun. This is likely the most challenging section of the 10 kilometre course and I feared what state I would be in when I reached the top.

So if you haven’t worked out why I wasn’t feeling too well yet, I’ll explain. First though I had another concern pre-race. After Christmas I had managed to cause more damage to my poor right knee by performing a swift and elegant fall down a hill. This piece of art happened while descending down Morrone which has become synonymous with causing yours truly pain. It is a demon of a hill.

Anyway, I had managed to put a new hole in my knee, while opening up the scab which had remained from my last big fall which I had needed stitches for. Over Hogmanay it had caused me some concern as it looked to be becoming infected again. Luckily, it finally healed and only caused some slight stiffness on ‘Detox’ day.

And the sickness? Drank too much on New Years (sorry Granny) which is never a good plan if you want to take part in a race soon after. I thought it would be fine because of the recuperation time but it wasn’t. It was seemingly accompanied by a two day hangover which I think was caused by a lack of sleep and not enough of the right type of food.

So now that I’ve bored you with the pre-race excuses ( was also worried about my brother’s fish. He’s away and it hasn’t been fed for ages!), lets get back to the race in which I fortunately seemed to feel better in as the miles flew by.

Knowing the course well is an obvious advantage because you know where you may gain or lose time, but is also good because it doesn’t feel that long anymore. This is the sixth time I have completed the detox so I know the route almost like the palm of my hand.

The struggle only really began within the last two kilometres when I started to enter a dark place in which I felt deeply unwell. Entering Lumphanan I wondered if instead of taking the right turn towards the village I could keep going straight ahead, avoiding the crowds and other runners which could potentially bear witness to my breakfast being thrown up again.

It may have been touch and go but I stuck with it and made it to the finish line, running a pleasing 41:46 which I wasn’t expecting when I woke up that morning. That isn’t far off my personal best so I was happy.

My poor mum was waiting for me at the start line with a jacket. Still concerned I may throw up my guts I waved her away all but telling her to f-off and slumped beside a fence for a few minutes getting my breath back. I had made it around in one piece.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ice Cream

There was once I sat on the bus
And watched as a women  started to fuss
She was sitting with her small child
Who really was quite wild
She was sitting there screaming about ice cream
Telling her mother she had seen it in a dream
In the dream the ice cream was creamy and nice
But her mother was convinced it was an unhealthy vice
When she explained this to her she started to cry
While her mother looked like she wanted to die
The other passengers looked her way
As the middle of the bendy bus started to sway
Her daughter continued to cry and wail
But her mission to find ice cream looked bound to fail
The racket was interrupted by the shrill of a bell
As an old women got up and nearly fell
The next stop was her one and as she got off the bus
The mother let out a very loud cuss
As her little girl ran out the door
Knocking her handbag to the floor
The mother followed in desperate pursuit
But her daughter was seemingly very acute
And hid in some bushes a few meters away
As she knew her mother could run faster always
The mother panicked as she saw no sign
Of her daughter who had just seen the divine
An ice cream van across the road
There was no doubt she was already sold
Looking around from her hiding place
She could not see her mother’s face
Carefully and slowly she made her way out of the bush
Not recognising the adult smell of kush
She was only five but knew she had to be safe
When crossing a road she had to have faith
In Stop, think, listen, look
The young girl had read it in a book
She stopped at the kerb and thought for a while
Remembering the code she had been taught by Mr Lyle
Unfortunately she got a little muddled
Her mind becoming totally befuddled
As she totally forgot the road safety guidelines
And ran in front of a bus whose driver had committed no crimes
The bus hit her and she never got her ice cream
But you can’t say she didn’t follow her dream
For children the lesson is very clear
To always keep your mother near
Getting hit by a bus is bound to hurt
So with danger you should never flirt
Even if your desperate for ice cream
It will never be as good as the one you had in your dream

 

Nightclubbing – what’s it all about then?

My first experience with drinking was three years ago and I can remember it vividly. I was 16 and most of my schoolmates had already had a taste of the ‘naughty juice’.

I remember stumbling around a friend’s field, being an utter and total lightweight, a category I would likely still firmly place myself in. Now three years on and attempting university for the second time, I obviously have much more experience with drinking.

Living in Dundee two years ago, and now settled in Aberdeen, it’s an activity which is no longer limited to damp Deeside fields and freezing River Dee ‘seshes’ (drinking sessions). These locations featured heavily in my early experiences with drinking, stumbling over my own feet as I tried to judge my surroundings.

Back then it was never a regular occurrence and it still isn’t really. However, it would be churlish to deny that for many students, especially excitable first years, drinking plays a significant role in their lifestyle.

There are many freshers who don’t like drinking and when I left the comforts of home for the ‘up-and-coming’ city of Dundee in 2016, I was one of them. This may have been mostly down to my lack of success in making many good friends, something I blame solely on my failure at being sociable. As my long suffering Dad always says, “its not rocket science.”

Anyway, while at Abertay University I got my first taste of nightclubbing, a new form of nightlife which I had never been party to. It was both terrifying, entertaining and, because I’m a bit weird, fascinating.

Its like my peers had chosen the loudest place to try and socialise with each other through the medium of bad dancing to the deafening thud of often below par music. I soon found the key was to drink and to perhaps drink to excess in order to enjoy this experience on any level whatsoever.

For me, rule one of nightclubbing would definitely be to not even consider entering a nightclub if you feel slightly sober. When breaking this rule I either break the bank buying drinks from a bartender intent on ignoring the small, yet incredibly handsome fair haired man standing at their bar or become thoroughly miserable.

Drinking enough before heading to the bright city lights of Dundee and now Aberdeen has therefore become a vital part of a good night out. This part of the evening, for the uninitiated, is simply referred to as ‘pres’ and usually ends at 11.30pm, when everyone heads for the nightclubs.

In Aberdeen, I have likely been out more than I did during the whole year I spent in Dundee, having both high and low points in my mission to convince myself that nightclubbing is a fun activity. Many nights have been fun, with good company and memorable moments cancelling out the repetitive music and my questionable dancing which often raises a few eyebrows.

My conclusion thus far is I remain wholly unconvinced by the whole experience. Looking past my lacking dancing abilities, I seem to spend most of my time in these dark, loud buildings either looking for or having shouting conversations with my friends, going to the bathroom or awkwardly standing about with a drink in my hand while others around me look at total peace with the madness.

I won’t however deny that on some level it is good fun. Unlike my year at Abertay in which I let my anxiety about social situations take control, I am slowly and surely pushing myself more. I feel that something as benign as nightclubbing is assisting in this greatly, however awkward I feel.

Maybe by the end of the year any negative views I currently have about this activity will have dissipated and I will become less cynical and more positive. Any partygoers reading this can only hope for such as I am yet to release the true party animal which lives inside.

Whatever happens I will strive to find a new conclusion about nightclubbing. Lets see what happens…

A Half to Celebrate Freshers’ Please

The day before Kenyan super human Eliud Kipchoge claimed a new world record by a whole minute and 18 seconds at the Berlin Marathon, 369 runners gathered to participate in the annual Crathes Half Marathon on a sunny September day. These runners gathering on the beautiful grounds of Crathes Castle weren’t going to come away from their experience with the same plaudits as the 33-year-old Olympic Champion, but would likely be fulfilled by a sense of great achievement at tackling 13 miles, perhaps as fast as their legs could carry them.

Finishing a half marathon is no mean feat, and this course can actually prove quite a challenging one if your used to smooth, flat road running. Several rocky off-road sections and some slight undulations can really take a toll on the legs, especially towards the end of the course. Apart from the pain, which lest we forget is an important part of becoming a faster runner, the scenery is idyllic as competitors race down quiet roads in a fairly flat landscape with livestock as their predominant spectators.

I had signed up for the Crathes Half a couple of months ago, keen to compete at a distance I had never raced at. It was only until a week before the event I realised it would come at the end of Freshers Week, seven days in which first years at university – i.e. Yours truly – participate in a fair amount of drinking. Feeling slightly rough on the day before I knew I couldn’t go out on the eve of the race and was given a good excuse to visit my grandparents instead.

On race day I felt fresher (no pun intended) and I think was slightly overexcited at breakfast tucking into some sausages. Probably never a good idea before any physical activity. I thankfully didn’t feel too bad as I lined up on the start line at Crathes Castle with my poor taste of music pounding in my ears. I’ve never listened to music in a race before but I think it helped.

Kyle Greig of Metro Aberdeen was first around the course in an impressive hour and 10 minutes, meaning he surely would have covered the first 10 kilometres of the course in under 35 minutes. I didn’t expect to be anywhere near matching those kinds of splits and knew it was key I remained focussed on setting a sensible pace. As per usual this didn’t quite happen and I raced out of the blocks, averaging around four minute Ks for the first two miles.

I soon realised I wouldn’t be able to sustain that pace and slowed down considerably finding a fellow runner and staying by his side for most of the race. I’m not sure how my new pacemaker felt about this. I never asked. This worked well and I actually managed to overtake several runners in the last few miles, seemingly sneaking past them as they slowed on sections that had a gradual incline. Having been quite lazy with my running recently my legs hadn’t hurt this much in a long time and in a way, it felt good as a remembered how much I enjoy pushing myself to my physical limit.

Managing a brief and painful sprint in the last 100 metres I completed my Crathes Half Marathon in 1:33:08. Not too shabby for a first time outing at this distance on the back of an alcohol fuelled, sleepless Freshers’ Week! Kipchoge may have completed 26 miles in just a quarter more of the time I completed 13 in, but I bet he didn’t go home and eat a big pizza. There’s no argument that his world-breaking run was truly inspirational though.

Away Days – NE England

Having been working (and cycling) away since I came home from my Fijian adventure, I was keen to get away for a while. A change of scene was needed and just about anywhere would do. I had thought about going abroad, but decided to leave that until the end of the month instead – I’ll write about where I went soon!

No instead I decided to stay in the sunny UK, taking my long suffering Dad along with me. He did the driving so he actually kind of took me with him.

Anyway we ended up deciding to go to Northumberland for no good reason whatsoever, apart from having never really been there before. Maybe that is a good reason for going somewhere.

Early on a Tuesday morning we set of on our perilous voyage down the East Coast of Scotland to Englandshire, stopping first just across the border in Berwick-upon-Tweed. I had only ever viewed this town from the window of a London bound train so it was nice to explore the old town walls which had protected the town from the English, the Scots, the English, and then… I could go on. Basically for a period in Berwick’s history it was difficult to figure out which nation the town belonged to.

Picking up a cycle map, I studied some of the local routes, looking for one which would be suitable for me to test my legs on, as we headed towards our campsite for the next two nights. We camped on the outskirts of a small town called Wooler, 13 miles south-west of Berwick.

Taken aback by how quiet the roads seemed, I hopped on my bike as soon as we had set up camp. I soon found myself heading north up traffic free, dusty roads, meeting nothing but the odd combine.

If you know me at all you’ll have realised riding a bike is something I already find immensely fun (mostly!). However, there is something about riding on new unknown roads which adds to this sense of enjoyment. Using my phone as a map I flew down small country lanes and soon realised I was heading back towards the mother nation.

With around an hour’s riding done I decided to make crossing the border into Scotland by bike today’s target, only slightly concerned about the dark clouds forming to the west. Several miles and much (phone) map reading later, I came across a pedestrianised bridge with a plaque reading “ENGLAND” stuck to one of the archways. I had found the border!

On the other side of this picturesque bridge (picture below) across the River Tweed, I was welcomed to Scotland. For some reason it felt more special to be riding across the border which holds much less importance than it once did many years ago.

Changing direction once I was in Scotland, I headed towards Kelso, before swinging south across the border again towards Wooler, using my phone to navigate the peaceful country lanes. Although there were no particularly long climbs, the roads were undualting, with fun to be had on the steep short climbs and the technical descents which followed.

That evening I compared notes with Dad about the local roads. He had gone for a shorter cycle, something which was encouraging as health issues had often meant he couldn’t enjoy exercise as much as he sometimes wanted to. And the next day we dicided to cycle across the causeway to the Holy Island, an island only accessible by roads for 12 hours a day. Spinning across the slippery seaweed soaken tarmac was a somewhat surreal experience as small lakes of water surrounded us.

After crossing we didn’t stay around for too long. A hot drink and a short look around and we set of across the causeway and back to the car. It was a cold day and the clouds looked full of rain. Yesterday I had managed to stay dry but today the heavens opened after we had returned to the campsite.

Sitting in the car I suggested we go to Newcastle or “N,Castle” as locals like to call it. The city seemed a sensible idea when the weather was this vile. Again I had only ever passed through this city on the train and was impressed but what I saw. During a break in the weather we wandered down to the river, where there was bridges galore.

Having enjoyed my first “Nandos” ever (shock horror) and many a “geordie” voice in Newcastle we overheard many more broad accents in the pub that night back in Wooler. That night my mattress deflated so I got up at first light. First priority was water followed by getting my lycra on and hopping on my bike again. It being 6 am the roads were empty, though it was very cold.

It quickly warmed though and I did a similar route to the one two days previous, adding some miles to make it a 50 mile effort. Not a bad mornings work. With the sun on my back and my legs taking me were I needed to go I felt lucky to be alive. Sometimes getting up so early can be of significant benefit and I felt set up for the rest of the day.

It may have been a short trip but it was definetly an enjoyable one and worth it to explore a new place.