Winter, as nature rules, is a time for hibernation,a season of quiet calm, with the darkness gradually beginning to fade as New Year approaches.

This New Year’s Eve I am cast in the role of an aged Macaulay Culkin as I find myself home alone to face the barrage of Jools Holland unassisted, with the exception of my four legged friend.

An racous evening of Guinness and bonio’s lies ahead ,along with an Amazon prime Scandi crime box set, this home alone sequel may not be big box office if the truth be told.

A writer should enjoy this solace with time to think and crack on with a ton of articles, inspired by a lack of household duty lists, but with a Labrador thrusting an empty plastic water bottle into your crotch every time you reach for the keyboard, inspiration is replaced with a natural instinct for genital survival,and a desire to avoiding waking up on New Year’s Day sounding like the fourth Bee Gee.

So the safest option in the circumstances would be to look back at 2019, whilst also looking sideways for the canine crotch destroyer ,who shows no sign of ending his “blitzkrieg”.

Looking back I can still feel that sub zero February Parisian night in my bones when Wales launched a grand slam, but it’s the hot balmy night in June, at the same venue, when Toulouse beat Clermont to win the Top 14,that lingers more pleasantly, along with a gorgeous August Sunday morning, after Ireland defeated Wales, looking out over Dublin bay, a panorama that would make even the strongest atheist think twice about a heavenly presence.

But ultimately, as in life,rugby is about the people in it, the friendships that grew even stronger with another year passing, and the new ones that so fortunately came my way, I treasure them all so dearly, these friends who hold the values of the sport and its spirit tightly in their grasp, I cannot than you enough.

To my beloved Harlequins Women I cannot even begin to thank you for allowing me to be part of your adventure for yet another year, and still no restraining order.

So as I get back to the keyboard the frantic excitement of an empty plastic water bottle has taken it toll, and an exhausted black Labrador is snoring at my feet, may 2020 bring you similar peace and tranquility, along with good health plus magical rugby shared with old friends,new friends, and those yet to come, and beware of Labradors brandishing plastic bottles.