Six Nations rugby is back again. Prepare for pain if you're Scottish...

I hope I'm wrong on that one, of course. It’s that time again. The most exciting tournament of the year for any rugby fan, in the northern hemisphere, at least. The six nations. It was the five nations when I first started watching it in the early eighties. Scotland won it in 1984. I still remember flanker Jim Calder falling on the ball from a line-out to win the match against the French. Our first Grand slam in something like sixty years. We did it again six years later against Will Carling’s much vaunted and powerful England. I once read his autobiography. I found it in a book shop in Sauchiehall street in Glasgow reduced from £16.99 straight to 0.99 pence. Was a good read. 1990 has gone down in history, of course. What a match. The Hastings brothers, David Sole, John Jeffries, Findlay Calder and the rest. What a team. Since the game became professional in 1995, we haven’t fared so well. Scotland last won the tournament in 1999, but not the grand slam, – losing closely to England – the last of the five nations. The Welsh did us a favour that year, beating England at Wembley in the sun, with a late try by Scott Gibbs allowing Scotland to take the championship on goal difference. The following year, Italy entered and promptly beat us in Rome. We were also destroyed by Ireland that year when a young Brian O’Driscoll, one of the greatest players of the professional era, made his debut and started a habit of regularly scoring against Scotland. Such humiliations have become fairly commonplace for Scottish rugby. We haven’t got near since 1999, whereas the Irish, the Welsh and the English have all had periods of dominance. France, less so, certainly in the last ten years. They remain a sleeping giant. The game has changed beyond recognition, in some ways, in the last thirty years. Physically, commercially, stylistically, even. What happened to good old fashioned rugby shirts with the collar? It remains, however, fifteen men, mostly of big to giant stature, chasing after a large egg. It also remains, for me, at least, the ultimate team game, capable of inducing massive emotion and excitement.

So recently after the rugby world cup, it is almost impossible to pick a favourite. England, having reached the final, had the most successful tournament, followed by the Welsh who made it to the semi-final and weren’t far off making it an all European final. That said, they were lucky to even make the semis. The French outplayed them in the quarters. Ireland were fairly poor and Scotland were fairly disastrous. England, surely the strongest, have their issues, notably the stramash with Saracens - Europe’s best team in recent years - being relegated for financial skulduggery. That said, one can only imagine this will strengthen the resolve of their English contingent and the team in general, but who knows? Ireland, full of class and confidence due to their club sides thriving though rather one dimensional with their incessant box-kicking, cannot be as poor as they were at the world cup. The Welsh, a very tight team, will take confidence from the world cup but are missing centre Jonathon Davies, who is world class. Despite this and with a new coach, they will be tough, I suspect. The French with a new defence coach, ex of Wales Sean Edwards, are some peoples’ favourites. With lots of exciting young talent they have much potential, but they nevertheless remain basket cases. If they keep their heads and especially beat England in their first game, they could do very well. Scotland, after their dreadful world cup, have a lot to prove. Unfortunately, the fracas with stand-off Finn Russell - their best player – being banned from their first match in Dublin, threatens to derail their tournament before it has started. Apparently, he had a few too many bevvies and it had to be dealt with. Either way, Scotland really need to have their best players on the pitch. Russell’s replacement, however, Adam Hastings, son of Gavin, has a bit of his Dad’s magic and will relish his opportunity. His kamikaze style is highly exciting but can be risky. If he continues to work on managing his game control, he’ll be something special. Italy, as always, will target their game with Scotland in Rome as their best chance of a victory that has eluded them for a few years in the tournament. It starts tomorrow and will be over in a flash, so I intend to enjoy it, even though as a Scotsman, I expect more lows than highs, though the highs will come at some stage, I’ve no doubt of that.

Reflections On A Thus Far Benign Winter.

It’s around mid-winter stage already and winter has yet to arrive. It hasn’t been exceptionally mild, but January has been mostly benign with no frost at all in London. Traditionally, January can be when the weather is at its most severe. There doesn’t seem to be any severe winter weather at all in the northern hemisphere this year, which is the exact opposite in the southern part of the globe with the horrific Australian forest fires due to a devastating mix of heat, drought and high winds. The UK, of course, is often mild in winter with the south westerly winds that dominate but for people of my age, mid-forties, our first weather memories probably begin around a time when severe snowy weather was commonplace. Indeed between 1979 and 1987, there wasn’t a winter season without that occurring at least once. I was conditioned into thinking that it was normal. Since then there have been cold winters at times but never normally for more than two or three years in a row.

                Anyway, the grey stillness of January has been brightened by bird song. The mistle thrush, its unique, far carrying and almost stilted notes being heard from a distant treetop. This is, the robin aside, the earliest of the singers. The mild winter has perhaps encouraged it, but it’s not entirely unusual to hear this so early in the year. Being keen on worms and snails, thrushes are a good barometer of a healthy ecosystem. In principle, they can be found wherever there are mature trees and grass though the song thrush, being particularly dependant on snails, has suffered through pesticide use in gardens. Listen out for the song when you’re out and about. You won’t mistake it as, the Robin’s melancholy twitterings aside, no other birds are singing yet. Another thrush which has, in fact, been noticeable by its absence this winter is the redwing, a delightful visitor from Scandinavia with a creamy stripe above the eye and a red flank. This is the first time in my four years living in North London that I haven’t seen any. As they normally come across the North Sea to profit from our milder climate this is proof of how clement the weather is this year, even over there. This may change so let’s see. I’d be interested to know if they’ve been commoner in the west of the UK as the redwing population there comes from Iceland. It’s disappointing not to have seen them so far, anyway, as they are a nice symbol of winter and a pleasure to behold. The lack of frost has helped maintain plenty of earthworms in the garden to the delight of the blackbirds. I like to see that, firstly as its shows a healthy lawn and garden but also as the blackbirds are amongst the least likely to visit my birdfeeders - partly as they’re unable to access them but also as they are less inclined to feed on seeds - and so rely more on nature. A tip for you; they love apples so if you feel so inclined as to chop some up and throw on the lawn, you’ll be very popular. This is a real treat, the problem being that if you have squirrels, they’ll likely hoover them up so bear that in mind.

                An interesting visitor is the Blackcap. A pair; a male and a female. Normally summer visitors which over-winter in Spain, it is not unusual for these pretty birds - the size of a robin - to stay here instead. I wonder, in fact, if this is the same pair which I’ve seen the last couple of winters? Such events invariably lead to suggestions of global warming. In the case of the blackcaps, however, it’s not necessarily the case. Firstly, mild as it is this year, London is colder than the south of Spain. I know, I myself have over-wintered there. Secondly, blackcaps come to the bird feeders thus avoiding dependency on finding insects. Also, London has plenty of buildings providing safe and warm roosting spots. My feeling, for the blackcap, at least, is that it’s more the case of an opportunistic bird which is able to survive the winter here through the artificial combination of city heat and bird feeders. A bird that relies solely on insects could not survive here through the winter. Though certainly so far this winter, it will have been relatively easy, due to the lack of frost. A winter without some cold, frosty or snowy weather does feel like a bit of a cheat and can only add to the sense that global warming – suddenly highly publicized though awareness of the issue amongst scientists goes back decades – is indeed taking a grip of weather events on a global scale.