Un ecossais en France

Watching France v Scotland (the pic is taken from the telly) holds a number of memories for me. I must have watched the game nearly a couple of dozen times with my best friend, my best man, who passed away a few years back. We met aged five, grew up a street away from each other and went on to play rugby at high school for six years - he a gnarled prop, me a lock-forward. Miss him terribly still, and can't go a six nations tournament without thinking about him.

The game these days has changed so much since I played - it's a brutal war of attrition. I enjoyed it a lot, and didn't play at uni due to injury, but I lived in France for a year and played for ASPTT Lannion. I was the only Scot in the town, a sleepy yet picturesque corner of Brittany, and one day bumped into a Welsh chap, like me teaching English in a local secondary school. We turned up at the rugby club and were welcomed with open arms. I had received the necessary paperwork from the Scottish Rugby Union and trained three times a week and represented the club on league and cup duty. A really fantastic year included watching France-Scotland on a big screen in the club - me, and 200 French folk.

At time of writing the score's France 0 Scotland 6. My mate would have been chuffed - not so much the folk at ASPTT Lannion.