My three-year-old son has just had his first rugby lesson. I know what you’re thinking – late starter.
Not really. We’ve been practising drop kicks and diving on the ball since he could walk, so he’s already got a few of the fundamentals under his belt.
He’s also inherited my over-sized rugby thighs and a broad set of shoulders; Mother Nature has played her part too.
It’s impossible to get tickets to international matches at Twickenham, so this is all part of my 20-year investment programme.
Yes, I’ll be proud as he trots out on to the hallowed turf to represent his country.
But, more importantly, I’ll be able to get a good seat at a reasonable price.