Bollocks to it....we're going in

Going to Cardiff.

What's the point of hanging about? Cardiff, a city of 20 million people, each one as dirty as the last. Rugby is best seen in its natural environment, so Father Gibbon has commandeered Father Padraig's fishing boat and we're all going to town. The Bishop was up in arms, but we told him to fuck off. The trip is going to be a tight-run affair time-wise, but we should arrive to soak up the atmosphere and imbibe several ales of note. May history write us into her pages...

Cymru am Byth!

Shit, it's here...

Saturday 19th March. The last day of abusing my body and mind. By 5.30pm we'll be either Grand Slam champions or just champions or even runner-up to another bloody team or two. Three possibilities, only one outcome.

The biggest problem now is going to be filling the day up. Time is moving so very slowly already, and the gap between the pub opening and the match starting is going to seem an eternity.

God help us all.

Father Padraig

Met up with the old blagger Father Padraig yesterday. He came to the island on a fishing boat and led a rousing St Patrick's day celebration at the local pub. Again, we've all ended up with hangovers, but that's to be expected.

One more day until crunch time.

Sweet, bountiful providence

Sometimes we need to stop and look. Absorb something and wrap it up for remembrance as a snapshot.

This island can be bleak. It can be wet, windy and lonely. But then it can throw up some beautiful, unexpected images. The wind drops, the clouds break a little; smoke from chimneys start rising upwards steadily like ethereal fingers trying to touch the sky; the sound of the sea is suddenly noticeable and the sun warms skin. Life is affirmed in the most glorious way.

I'm off to the toilet now.

Celebrate

It's my birthday. I'm soaking wet and freezing - gardening on a March morning indeed!

Tomorrow will see us cracking open the special alcohol and having a knees-up and a DJ has been ordered in from the mainland. In the meantime I'll carry on with doing the little things.

Father Gibbon dropped a Penderyn in for me last night mind you...so a little dalliance with the grain may arise later as a taster for the Thursday extravaganza.

And Dick Best (ex-England coach) is being just that. There's a time and a place Mr Best! And then the inevitable and heated response.

I think people paint the All-Blacks as a scary team. Sure, they're good, but let's not get carried away about their status. They haven't won the world cup in a long time and failed to win the Tri-nations last year. They only beat us by a point and beat a France team still suffering from Gallic navel-gazing. A good blend of the home countries will see us get the upperhand in the scrum and lineout and the backs available have enough skill to damage the New Zealand team.

Still, I'm not a coach. Back to work...

Agog

Reading this has given me goose bumps.

Can you believe such confidence? Just turned 24 I believe. The confidence stems from happiness and faith in a style of rugby that seems to pour out from the heart in this country. If we beat Ireland it will be a triumph for a country where rugby has a near religious meaning and where it serves the working class as a panacea in troubled times. We want this win so badly. Fortunately, the guys who are playing on our behalf are looking to keep the same mood and mentality. Add a touch of luck and Saturday 19th March could be a day unlike any other for many of us.

As an aside, Father Bradley has attached a pedometer to his wrist to see how many strokes are required to achieve 'climax'. My apologies if you're upset by this thought, but I aim to tell you the truth where possible.

Bost newydd

My head hurts even more than Saturday. Tomos Watkin has screwed with me once too often and I have to issue a complaint: Stop making fine ales! I suppose the Welsh victory against Scotland was a catalyst for the imbibation, but a lawsuit could be on the cards.

Now we have to pick ourselves up for one more push. Ireland will be keen and streetwise...can we match them and beat them? By we I mean the fans, because the Irish need to be put in their place in every respect. Please God let us win, it's been too long since we could hold our heads up.

Today I will tend the root vegetables with a mindfulness, considering the change in our fortunes whilst hoping for yet more. I really must push myself back into the routine here on the island or else I'll miss the boat, spiritually speaking that is.