Blue has been the colour this week, as Cardiff  basked in a week of glorious sunshine and unadulterated sporting glory.

It’s difficult to decide which is the more notable, as meteorological success in Wales is probably harder to come by than sporting triumph, but for the capital city to have both, and in the space of less than a week, may well make residents and supporters rush out en masse, to buy a lottery ticket, as unlike the weather, good fortune appears to raining down on the South Wales city at the moment.

On Friday night glorious success spanned the 1006 miles from Cardiff Bay to the Bay of Biscay, and from Barry to Bilbao, I would imagine there were even “Bluebirds” over the white cliffs of Dover.

The Welsh capital had only just recovered from its massive footballing hangover, following Cardiff City’s promotion to the premier league, when the “hair of the dog” came in the form of European Challenge cup success in the San Mames stadium over Gloucester.

The celebratory pintxos replaced Clarkie’s pies on this occasion, and chip alley was temporarily re located to Plaza Emilio Campuzano, a gastronomic upgrade of massive proportions.

It couldn’t have started much worse for Welsh side, losing star man Josh Navidi after 6 minutes with what looked like a dislocated shoulder, from then on Gloucester bossed the first half and went in at half time with a 20-6 lead.

I had already prepared my headline “Cardiff sunk in the Bay of Biscay”, but not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time. I was proved totally wrong.

Barely having time to finish my Cortado, a minute into the restart Blues scrum half Tomos Williams went over for a brilliant try, that set the tone for a thrilling and nerve jangling second half.

The tide was turning in the Bay of Biscay, and the water was starting to look a bit choppy for Gloucester.

The Blues scored seventeen unanswered points in fourteen second half minutes, to give them a 23-20 lead, but the cherry and whites were not finished, and proceeded to score ten unanswered points of their own to take a 30-23 lead.

The score remained that way until the clock hit 76 minutes, when Blane Scully went over in the corner, Anscombe missed a difficult conversion, as finger nails slowly disappeared with Gloucester clinging on to a 30-28 lead.

The Arms Park boys gave it one last thrash, which resulted in a Cardiff penalty in the 79th minute, Anscombe slotted the pressure kick as Cool as the cucumber in my vegetable bocadillo, they collected the restart, wound down the last few seconds, and booted the ball into touch to gain a memorable win by 31 points to 30.

Open top buses are going to be in short supply next week in Cardiff, as the city’s sporting heroes display their wares, if there’s another week of sunshine to go with it we may just have to pinch ourselves.

There is an old saying “You only get one chance to create a first impression”, for the game of rugby, in the football mad country of Spain, that chance came on Sunday 18 March.

For once, rugby was on the front pages, it was on prime team television and radio, this was the moment the rugby lovers, and supporters of Spanish rugby, had been waiting for, a chance to showcase their wonderful game, and its values, to let the uninitiated and the casual sports fan know just what the our sport was all about.

The bars and cafes across Spain were alive with anticipation and excitement, over a Cortado and a cerveza people were speaking about Malie instead of Messi, Rouet and not Ronaldo, and instead of Bale there was talk of Belie.

But sadly What was intended to be a celebration of Spain’s potential qualification for next years Rugby World Cup in Japan degenerated into an ugly and sordid affair, resulting in a complete antithesis of everything rugby people dear.

All the unseemly events that unfolded that afternoon of which we are now all too familiar, came about as a direct result of the actions, or rather the inaction of Rugby Europe.

This was an accident waiting to happen, Rugby Europe appointed a Romanian referee to a match where his home nation and employer would directly benefit from a win for Belgium.

The “Ref Team” should never have been put in this position and in my opinion Rugby Europe failed in their duty of care to the referee and his Romanian assistants.

Requests by the Spanish Rugby Federation to change the officials were refused, as were the requests for a Television Match Official for what was the biggest and most important rugby match in the world on that particular day.

Conspiracy theories abound, investigations, conversations, recriminations and conference calls are all ongoing, and to add to catalogue of catastrophe Russia has now complained that Romania fielded an illegible player during the qualifying tournament.

The real loser, whatever the final outcome of the governing bodies findings will not be a referee, or even Spain or Romania, the loser will be rugby itself.

Many of my Spanish rugby friends are heartbroken, not because they lost a rugby match but because the years they have spent fostering and proclaiming the spirit and values of rugby, whilst being global ambassadors for the sport, have been compromised and disrespected.

A wonderful and unique opportunity to spread the development of rugby in Spain has been blown, hearts and minds have been lost, some forever.

If that match had been the first rugby game I had ever watched I’d have switched to the round ball game overnight.

The Spanish team did not cover themselves with glory either after the final whistle, and the scenes witnessed were disgraceful, shocking and depressing in equal measure, but would these unseemly events have occurred if Rugby Europe had carried out its duties competently, and appointed a team of officials from a different country.

World Rugby, the game’s governing body, are awaiting Rugby Europe’s explanations, and I have no doubt there will be repercussions, whether these will be to Spain’s advantage I have my doubts.

Whatever happens Spain can still make next years World Cup, and I hope their anger and frustration will be channeled and prove to be a motivating factor in their efforts to beat Portugal, and Samoa, to secure qualification for RWC 2019.

The rugby world will be wishing them well, and just maybe those hearts and minds lost on that wet Sunday afternoon in March will be recovered next year in the Japanese sunshine.

The land of the rising sun would be the perfect place to see a new dawn for Spanish rugby.

A sun drenched Stoop rocked on Saturday, it rocked to the excitement of a cup semi final, it rocked to the sight of the some of the world’s top rugby players going head to head, and hell for leather, and it rocked because it proved once and for all that the women’s game is the real deal.

On a day of shades and shorts there were fans queuing waiting for the gates to open, the whole atmosphere felt different, there was an edge, a big game ambience, something I have not witnessed before in the women’s domestic game.

It felt more like Tenerife than Twickenham, but as well as factor 50, there was also  X Factor on show, and it came in many forms.

You can take your pick from Rachael Burford’s delicious floating passes, to Deborah McCormack jumping like a salmon at the line out, the skill sets on show were a joy to behold.

Scrum half Leanne Riley barked at her forwards and sniped around the scrum like a hungry Jack Russell, providing fly half Ellie Green with a service that Roger Federer would have been proud of, whilst Zoe Sayner put her body on the line time and time again hitting rucks and mauls like a rampaging bull.

There are over 100,000 different species of the insect variety of Wasp who are renowned for their persistence, but when it comes to the two-legged rugby version, there is one Wasp that is always a delight to watch.

I’m referring of course to Dannielle Waterman who’s silky skills are more butterfly than Wasp, watching her glide like a phantom through tackles with a grace that would be a credit to the Bolshoi, was worth the entrance fee alone.

The home side had the slender advantage of a six point lead from the first leg of this Tyrrells Premier 15s semi final, and you sensed from the kick off that they were not going to let that slip.

This was Quins third semi final match in seven days, in various competitions, and coaches Gary Street and Karen Findlay have had to manage their charges carefully, inevitably some players have had to perform in all three matches, and there were some tired bodies, and minds at Twickenham last night.

Quins lost wing Ellie Miles after eight minutes and centre Fiona Pocock after nineteen minutes, both injured, but it caused little disruption and it was replacement Stacey White who scored the first points of the game with a try on the half hour.

Jess wooden added a second on thirty-four minutes and Quins went into the sheds with a 10-0 lead, and an aggregate scoreline of 35-19 in their favour.

Harlequins started the second half like bats of out hell and Deborah McCormack who is making the number 7 shirt her own these days, scored for the second week running with a twenty metre sprint to the line,

On fifty-two minutes prop idol Vickii Cornborough produced a searing thirty metre break that resulted in Jess Wodden producing some crisp finishing (rather appropriately in a Tyrrells semi final) to touch down for her second try of the match and Quins appeared home and hosed.

Wasps rallied with a Waterman try on the hour mark, but the contest was over to all intents and purposes

As referee Nick Wood blew the final whistle the sun-baked Quins fans rose as one to salute their team, and the joyous scenes on the pitch provided a wonderful end to a wonderful day.

With an aggregate win of 47-26 Quins head to the final, where they will face Saracens.

Wasps, the class outfit that they are, took defeat with grace and dignity, and as the evening sun began to set, maybe it just heralded another bright new dawn for women’s rugby.

Just off Highway 1 in the Rangitikei district of New Zealand’s North Island , there lies a small community called Hunterville.

The township on the Porewa stream had a population peak of 546 way back in 1896, but in the census of 2013 its population had declined to 429, the railway station closed in 1988, the maternity hospital in 1989 and in the 1990’s three of its banks closed.
The town is best known for its statue of the Huntaway, a herding dog that uses its voice to control sheep, the steep hills of the Rangitikei would be impossible to farm without the dogs.

But Hunterville may be getting a new statue the way things are going, as it is also the home of Hadleigh Wayne Parkes.

The geographical similarities between home and Carmarthenshire are evident, and as the likeable Kiwi comes from a proud farming heritage, it may explain why the international centre feels so at home in Llanelli.

The people of Wales have taken Hadleigh to their hearts, a down to earth humble bloke, who Scarlets fans adopted as one of their own quite some time ago, but since December the whole country has grown to respect and appreciate the Kiwi centre, for his performances on the field, and his demeanour off it.

His debut for Wales on December 2 2017 against South Africa was treated with scepticism in some quarters, this was soon quashed after a superb performance scoring a try after 8 minutes, another after 33 minutes, topped off with the man of the match award.

He looked like he had been on the international stage all his life, if there were any nerves they certainly didn’t show once the match kicked off.

Pre match is another story, learning the national anthem from hours spent with his Scarlets team mates,  Hadleigh was anxious to sing it and to sing it properly, another act that endeared him to the people of Wales.

“It was a huge opportunity and privilege to be able to represent the Welsh people”

His parents Bill and Janet missed his Wales debut, but his partner Suzy arranged for a video tribute to be sent from New Zealand from family and friends, which brought a tear to all our eyes as well as his.

Thankfully Mum and Dad made it to the Principality Stadium, in February, to see their son make his 6 Nations debut against Scotland.

“They were waiting until the team was picked, with their bags packed, were ready to go” says Hadleigh and when the call came they set out on the 12,000 trip to see their son in action.

Bill and Janet became celebrities themselves when shown on the big screen during the match and there was a lovely moment when their boy in the heat of battle glanced up to view Mum and Dad having a whale of a time.

“I caught them out of the corner of my eye, it was just a good laugh to see Mum and Dad enjoying themselves, and we were playing a good game of rugby as well”

It was a tough decision for both him and Suzy to leave home (New Zealand), but they were both keen to explore new cultures in the Northern Hemisphere.

Rugby playing offers came from France but having known Scarlets coach Wayne Pivac from his Auckland and provincial rugby days Hadleigh opted for the West Wales side.

Since then he has become the glue of the national team with his superb rugby brain bringing a coolness and consistency to the number 12 shirt.

The Northern Hemisphere experience could switch to Asia in 2019, as I have no doubts that he will be an integral part of Wales Rugby World campaign in Japan next year.

Hopefully Suzy and Hadleigh will partake in some further European exploration in the Basque city Bilbao in May, a champions cup win there with Scarlets, and there could well be another statue erected to a Hunterville citizen, this time one with two legs.

But the biggest match of all takes place in New Zealand in June where there will be two certain winners, Suzanne and Hadleigh, when they become Mr and Mrs Parkes.

That will be some “Shemozzle”

There is a theory that time passes quicker as you get older, if this years 6 Nations is anything to go by then that theory has some substance.

It only seems yesterday that the Christmas special of call the midwife came to a tearful end, and the glorious anticipation of the 2018 tournament filled our hearts and minds with that wonderful warm glow that it always does.

Now all of sudden here we are on a damp Monday morning, with snow still on the ground, after the final weekend that saw Ireland win the Grand Slam.

This years tournament seems to have flown by even faster than usual.

Maybe the fact that I reached the tender age of 60 halfway through the tournament has increased the speed in which time has passed.

Such is the rapidity at which the tournament has unfolded, I still have croissant crumbs from Marseille (after France v Italy) in my iPad holder that require removal.

Einstein theorised that time slows down or speeds up depending on how fast you move relative to something else.

Try telling that to whoever is stood ten metres away from a runaway Matthieu Bastareaud, I would imagine that physics theory is rapidly replaced by a more basic fight or flight reaction.

The passage of time has been a crucial factor in this years tournament, on the opening weekend in Paris with 80+3 minutes on the clock a Johnny Sexton drop goal snatched a victory for Ireland against France.

In Dublin Ireland took on Wales and with the score at 33-30 to Ireland, one pass with 80 minutes on the clock from Gareth Anscombe and time stands still for the briefest of moments.

If it goes to Tipuric it’s almost certainly a win for Wales, but an interception for Stockdale results in an Irish try that seals victory for the men in green.

Indeed Ireland seem to be the Time Lords, they have scored 31 points in time added on after either at 40 or 80 minutes during the championship, so we could be looking at Joe Schmidt as the next Dr Who at this rate.

For Italy, facing Wales in Cardiff, the opening six mins must have seemed like an eternity as the rampant red raiders raced in for two tries, that gave the Azzuri an impossible chance of recovery.

There are a number of French players who would love to turn the clock back to the start of the fateful night in Edinburgh, that resulted in a police investigation and their subsequent dropping from the France squad, and there are a group of Scottish players who hoped their Saturday night in the capital would never end, after their wonderful victory over England.

Time is not measured by clocks alone, but also by moments, and the 2018 Nat West 6 Nations has provided us with plenty of moments, moments of joy and sadness, of hope and despair, of ugliness and beauty.

We’ve had France’s version of Beauty and The Beast in Teddy Thomas and Mathieu Basteraud.

Poor Sergio Parisse reached the incredible milestone of one hundred Italian defeats, whilst the Flower of Scotland sent England home to think again, and indeed they did think again, and again, and then lost their next two matches against France and Ireland.

Wales finished as runners-up and with eleven players out injured have acquired an unexpected strength in-depth, just in time for next years Rugby World Cup in Japan.

So it’s finally over and we now file away those moments in our memory bank, to go with all the others we have collected over the years, and some of us are already counting the days to the next tournament.

I’m already thinking about 1 February 2019, when Wales and France open the next six nations tournament, in Paris, at the very gallic kick off time of 9pm.

Undoubtedly time will pass quickly, and if we are spared we will do it all again, how time flies when you’re having fun.

In Ancient Rome the colour red symbolised blood and courage, whilst in China, it is regarded as a vibrant optimistic colour symbolising success, happiness and warmth, along with good luck and wealth.

But for a select group of men the colour red symbolises a brotherhood whose claim to five and six nations fame is a somewhat dark and shameful one.

There is no highlighted annual glory for them, just a little talked about statistic in the back pages of the guides and previews of this wonderful tournament.

These are the men who have received their marching orders, the recipients of the dreaded red card.

The first 5 Nations dismissal took a while coming, you wait ninety-four years for a sending off then two come along at once.

The late great Willie Duggan of Ireland and Geoff Wheel of Wales were the first players dismissed in the Five nations when Wales entertained Ireland Cardiff on day month 1977.
Scottish referee Norman Sanson did the honours in the days when you could only get cards from Hallmark, it was just a pointed finger to the touch-line, which even the BBC cameras missed, fortunately commentator Nigel Starmer-Smith didn’t.

It will come as no surprise to English readers that France are the Kings of the Red Card three of which were received in their vintage decade of “Le Biff” the 1990’s

The complete antithesis to the French are England, whiter than their white shirts, who have not received a single red card throughout the entire history of the Five and Six nations.

Although when it comes to yellow cards, James Haskell holds the dubious honour of receiving the most individual yellow cards, managing to collect five between 2007 and 2017.

Italy as the new kids on the block, have made up for lost time with three dismissals since they joined the tournament, when five became six, in the year 2000, in addition Italy also hold the most yellow cards with forty-five.

The most recent red card was given by Jerome Garces to Scotland’s Stuart Hogg in Cardiff in 2014.

Teddy Thomas has lit up this years six nations with the kind of footwork his nursery rhyme ancestors would have been proud of, one step, two-step and a bit of “round and round the garden” before dotting down over the try line three times in two matches.

The man with the”Man Bun” has been the eye-catching speedster follwing the opening two rounds of the tournament, the nicknames are bound to follow, TGV Ted maybe, or the Racing Rapier, I will leave that for my friends at L’Equipe and Midi Olympique to sort out, but my Welsh imput will consist of “Thomas The Try”

Teddy is born and bred French, with some Malian blood from his father.

In an interview Teddy said “My father abandoned me shortly before my birth”

All he knows about his Dad is that he was born in Bamako, and came to France to play professional football with Saint Etienne and Marseille, but when Teddy was born, on 18 September 1993, his Dad disappeared off the face of the earth.

Born within the shadow of the Biarittz stadium, the young winger was raised by Mum Carole, with his uncle and Grandad providing the fatherly guidance.

It was they that took him to training, encouraging him into the Biarittz academy under the guidance of a great former French wing Patrice Lagisquet.

Teddy bears no bitterness towards his father, just sadness that he didn’t know him.

“I don’t want to judge him, I don’t know the circumstances of his departure and I don’t want to know them”

Teddy Thomas stands at 6ft 1 and weighs in at just over fourteen stones, on his left bicep are two tattoos one shows Mali within a map of Africa, the other is written “Dad” in Latin.

On November 8 2014 he made his French debut against Fiji, on the left-wing, scoring a try in the first minute, he went on to complete a hat trick that day.

He has scored eight tries in thirteen matches for his country a pretty good ratio, those of us craving a return of the French rugby flair that lit up our youth, are pinning  an awful lot of our hopes on the young Racing 92 player, to lead French back play from the darkness in to the light.

It is a bitter irony that due to incidents in Edinburgh,after the Scotland gamein February, which resulted in his suspension, the flying winger was unable to face Italy, at the velodrome, the ground where his Dad played professional football for Marseille.

Teddy gives us old folks hope that French flair is still alive and well and with a long season  of Top 14, and international matches ahead “TGV Teddy” can light up the winter darkness before shining at the Rugby World in the land of the rising sun.

Arles Sur Tech is a tiny village, set in a scenic forested valley, in the eastern foothills of the pyrenees, where catalan and French are spoken.

It is less than one hours drive from the Spanish border, a journey which has a major relevance to one of its inhabitants, France captain Guilhem Guirado.

In stature and appearance, he is exactly how you would imagine a French hooker to look like.

At 5ft 11ins and 15 stone 8lbs, he is as tough and solid as the local Pyrenean Boulders on the field, and as calm and gentle as the meandering river tech off it.

A private man who puts his love of his family above all else, his grandparents were part of the 500,000 Spanish exodus, that fled the violence of the Spanish Civil War, and crossed the Pyrenees with the one sole aim of finding refuge in France.

His parents were born in Granada, and were only five years old when they arrived in France with almost nothing to their name.

“Until I was 15 all I knew was this village where my grandparents had arrived, my favourite memories are from here, I loved being that age, it is here everything really started for me and I found a passion for rugby”

Guilhem is a man who knows where he is, and more importantly  where he has come from.

I first met him at the RBS 6 nations launch in 2016, after he had just been revealed as the new France captain, he stood out as a man at peace with himself taking everything in his stride in a calm and measured manner.

“To know where you want to go you need to know about where you came from and the determination that went before” he says philosophically, and when you delve into his family history you get a sense of where that inner strength has come from.

“What I like about rugby is the direct confrontation with an opponent a physical contest and collisions tackles”

But when he gets home he puts his bag down and rugby is finished

“The most important thing for me is my family and the people who are around me, whether my parents, grandparents wife or daughter”.

“It’s my stability it’s something that allows me to put things into perspective, to be able to relax and see life in a different way, I’m not only thinking about rugby and that allows me to perform well on the field”

CAPTAINCY

“I don’t have a specific style it is mainly a feeling, a lot of conversations and a lot of questioning, and the captain is nothing without the players around him”

“It is a great pride, a huge honour for all that it means for me and for France”

WEARING THE FRENCH JERSEY

“I think it’s always an honour to play for and represent France, everything goes more quickly and it is a bit stressful because of the fear of not being up to the mark, you want your family to be proud of you”

“I like to know what has happened in the past and immerse myself in it because I also have to represent all the former players, there have been some huge players, and great hookers who have gone before me”

“For me this shirt really represents the welcome given to the Spanish exiles, I am French I grew up in France, it is a country that was ready to welcome to my grandparents so of course I think of them”

PLAYING CAREER

“My first memory is the first time I played rugby, it was with all my friends in Arles sur tech, and the most beautiful thing is we all got to know each other on the rugby field, and today we are still sharing our lives and great moments together”

“I have been lucky to be able to play for my club that made me dream when I was a kid, the Perpignan team USAP, and finally to be able to play with France a few years later, and now to play with RC Toulon with the best players in the oval world”

He won his first cap on 9 March 2008 , coming off the bench against Italy at the stade de france in a 25-13 victory “I remember my first cap, a special taste, I remember it like it was yesterday”

His first start for France came in the 2010 autumn international against Fiji.

The recently sacked France coach Guy Noves spoke publically of his desire to keep the “Toulon Talonneur”as skipper for the 2019 Rugby World Cup in Japan.

The new incumbent Jacques Brunel was coach of Perpignan when they won the French league some years ago, wearing the number 2 shirt through that campaign was none other than Guilhem Guirado, so he too is well aware of leadership qualities the man himself possesses.

Whatever happens you sense that Guilhem will take it all in his stride, his mother says “He must never forget where he is from, it is his strength” and as we all know, mothers are usually right.

How many of us were taken to our first rugby international by our Dad ? Quite a few I should think.

My father took me to Cardiff Arms Park on October 2 1971 to see Wales play for the very first time against Canada.

Forty seven years have passed but that day still lives with me.

In those days of black and white television to be taken to a new rugby world where the grass was green and the Welsh shirts a blood red was a shock to the senses, the colours were all so vivid after a childhood of grey grainy pictures on a small television that doubled up as a cocktail cabinet.

Those forty seven years have passed in a flash, age has caught up with us all, but this weekend it caught up with one man in particular.

My lovely dad passed away at 2.30pm, a proper old fashioned kick off time.

Like a true prop he gave it all he had but this time he was on the losing side, and now it’s time for him to rest in peace.

As the 2018 six nations is about to begin the glorious irrelevance of rugby will be the great comforter that it always has been, and to all those of you who will going to Edinburgh, Cardiff, Rome, Dublin, Twickenham, Murrayfield and Marseille, enjoy every second, and if you happen to be going with your Dad, hold him tight and give him an extra hug from me.

On a dark damp chilly afternoon at Surrey Sports Park, Harlequins Ladies thunderous forward effort saw off Loughborough Lightning to earn themselves a 17-10 win.

Quins watertight defence kept out Lightning during the opening exchanges, as Loughborough controlled the breakdown, but Quins dominant scrum turned the tide in their favour.

Jess Wooden kicked a scrum penalty to touch on the 5m line, and the resulting driving maul gave hooker Davinia Carlin her first try of the match.

The multi talented home team backline bombarded Loughborough, but their defence held out until captain Sarah Hunter received a yellow card for killing the ball on her own line.

A Quins attacking 5m scrum resulted in Fi Fletcher touching down under the posts, and Wooden added the conversion to give the home side a 12-0 lead at the break

Quins made a storming start to the second half, with Catlin getting her second try to give Quins a 17-0 lead.

In the gathering darkness as the light faded ,the Lightning struck.

A yellow card for Loughborough’s Rebecca Noon, reducing them to fourteen players, sparked a two try revival as Lizzy Adam and Sarah Bonar touched down to narrow the score to 17-10.

Quins old heads stepped up to the plate, Rachael Burford, now at scrum half, controlled matters in the back line, whilst lock Deborah McCormack made a couple of powerful galloping runs, breaking the gain line on a number of occasions, and putting lightning on the back foot, at a time when they were looking menacing.

The Lightning storm had passed, and the game ended with Quins throwing the kitchen sink at Loughborough in the opposition twenty two, in an attempt to get a fourth try and a bonus point.

A team who love to play exciting attacking rugby showed that they can also get down and dirty to grind out a win, and that can only be good for their title challenge in 2018.