So, the party is finally over, the black sacks have been filled and piled up outside ready for collection, and the hangover is massive.

For six weeks we have gorged and been intoxicated, and now, somehow we have to sober up.

Some of the guests didn’t stay very long, others lingered and finally slumped off home, and some stayed right till the bitter end.

Our favourite guests Japan have invited us to their house in 2019, so bring a bottle !

As parties go, this was the best, there are so many moments we will never forget, the aforementioned Japan beating the mighty Springboks in   Sunny Brighton, Sonny Bill Wiliams putting himself in line for a Vatican appointment with his sportsmanship and genuine humanity, and Wales blowing the annual NHS budget on ambulance journeys alone.

The fans, the volunteers , the sunshine, the ball in the wall in Cardiff ,how we miss it all, it’s so bad I even miss John Inverdale, or John Englandverdale, as social media re named him.

My only gripe is that dreadful bronze match, why oh why does that take place, just give both losing semi finalists a bronze medal and declare them joint third place.

Losing in a semi final is the pits and to get yourself up for another international with a four day turnaround, in Argentina’s case ,was almost a case for the European court of human rights.

It all ended a week ago and it seems like a lifetime doesn’t it ?

I find it no coincidence that since the final ended,last Saturday,we have literally had no sunshine where I live.

Thanks everyone for making the tournament so great here is my personal list of closing credits to those who made it so special for me

Adam Jones

Stephen Jones

Jamie Freeland

Doggy Bonar

Daniel Razza

Nigel Owens

Costa Coffee

Springbok fans at Wales v South Africa Twickenham

Daniel Craig

Gareth Bale

Mr J Wilkinson

Bob Skinstad

South West Trains

Evolution Battersea

74:06 on the clock at a damp grey Twickenham, bread of heaven ringing around the stadium and Wales less than six minutes away from a second consecutive Rugby World Cup semi final, and leading South Africa 19-18.

The men in red had given everything, put their bodies on the line and repelled everything the Springboks had thrown at them, which included the kitchen sink and the kitchen itself.

One scrum, one pass and the dream was over .

This team, this squad, this group have displayed qualities that have made the nation proud, and that have upheld the standards and ethics of this great game

They have shown humility in victory and graciousness in defeat and in captain Sam Warburton they have someone very special both as a rugby player and as a person.

Thank you Wales for a magical four weeks , for your efforts , and for the humble way you have conducted yourselves, we feel you are part of us and that we are part of you.

We are sad that this particular journey is over, but we will all unite again for another roller coaster ride soon.

Ok so the words Welsh  rugby and ambulance (or ambiwlans if you are Welsh speaking) have been the most used nouns since all eyes focused on RWC 2015 , but I would like to tell you the tale of my personal battles which have not received the headlines they deserve

It all started at my pre tournament training camp in Barcelona the week before the tournament started .

The waiter at the cafe was not exactly the Richie Mccaw of personal hygiene, and whilst suffering from some form of severe bronchial disorder ,managed  to infect me,via my morning croissants, with the most horrendous dose of man flu.

I attempted to to nip this in the bud through extremely high doses of  cortados, bacalao omelettes and Madeleines.

The self administration of anti biotics I found the bottom of my wash bag propelled me in the road to recovery.

Despite concerns, I managed to get through the full eighty minutes of the Uruguay match ,although I was not severely tested to be honest.

I was starting to feel good, and even got through an interview with Adam Jones in a London eye capsule high above the city ,as part of my altitude training.

But in true Welsh style worse was yet to come.

Monday morning arrived, and as people of my age will know ,every action involving bending is accompanied by a corresponding groan .

The process of getting dressed for me sounds like a soundtrack to the Haka these days .

Anyway ,I had reached the socks moment, to be precise I had over reached the socks moment  the pelvis shifted and there was a clicking of the lower back , I  felt my World Cup was over.

Now unlike the national team , I do not have the expertise and medical back up that they enjoy, so it was up to me to be disciplined and follow the tried and trusted regime of the pound shops ibuprofen gel together with fruit and nut chocolate.

I had to sit out the the Wales v England match although there was a miracle moment when I arose like Lazarus from the sofa, as Gareth Davies dived under the posts for the winning try.

The Fiji and Australia games have seen an improvement, but I may be too late for his tournament, unless Wales make the semi finals

So I may have to cling to hopes of Japan 2019 for a full tournament injury free.

Thank goodness for the one bit of kit that has got me through the tough rehab.

State of the art medical equipment does not come cheap, but without my Nepresso machine I would never have made it

So here’s hoping for  Wales win against the Springboks as I just might be fully fit for the semi final.

 Things have been going bump in the night in darkest Surrey this Week.

There have been spooky goings on , with players revealing  they have seen a ghost at their Oatlands Park hotel, in Weybridge.

In room 1313, Dan Lydiate claims to have seen Henry Viii ! Of course it could have been Warren Gatland in a shower cap, and Dan did get a whack on the head against Fiji.

His room mate Sam Warburton was so spooked by Dan’s late night revelations that he couldn’t get back to sleep that night.

Even more spookily the whole Welsh squad were injury free and available for selection against Australia, now that can only be achieved by mystic means.

Maybe these ghostly apparitions are a Portent, the assistance of the supernatural to overcome the demons of the last ten Wales v Australia encounters which Wales have lost by an average of 2.7 points

Having failed CSE maths I cannot corroborate this figure but it has been supplied by a reliable source.

Now I have been to Oatlands Park, and to be honest , the only frightening,and spine tingling aspect of my visit, was the size of the bill for afternoon tea.

The men in red have been haunted by the last minute defeats exacted on them by the Wallabies in recent years

So maybe come Saturday afternoon Wales will have divine assistance in their quest to bury the ghosts of those heartbreaking losses to the men in green and gold

If that happens I don’t think any of us will get much sleep on Saturday night.

Saturday night at Twickenham did it really happen ? I don’t know about you, but to me it almost felt like an out of body experience !

Everything conspired against us, starting with Great Western Trains, or whatever they are currently called, leaving thousands to wander the A316 all through the night until Sunday morning transport became available

You will have read so much about that great win , that nothing I can offer will enrich your life any further, the rainforest of newsprint that has already been produced will suffice, and there are only so many images of Mike Browns bulging eyes and neck veins that a human being can endure.

But now it’s back to earth, and those dreadful two words that send a shudder through every Welsh persons  colon…. Pacific Islanders !

Fiji in four days time and as another ambulance heads off into the sunset we have called up yet more replacements ,and we have only played two pool games.

If we get to the quarter finals Katherine Jenkins might have to shore up the scrum.

Anyway… Pacific Islanders…. We don’t really do them do we ? Maybe our Atlantic coastline has created some sort of cosmic backlash against our opposing ocean.

Western Samoa, Manu Samoa and Fiji have all ruined Rugby World Cups for Wales, their hard hitting style has got the junior doctors, at the Heath,rubbing their hands with glee at the prospect of hours of overtime on Thursday night.

This is how it should all pan out:

Wales beat Fiji with a bonus point win on Thursday ,and no injuries ,followed by Australia beating England on Saturday night, ensuring Wales qualify for the quarter finals.

So with a week to spare we can relax and enjoy the glory, in tranquil manner before facing the Wallabies to decide who tops the group.

If you are a Wales fan then you know the chances of this happening fall into two categories 1. Slim and 2. No.

So my friends it’s never dull following Wales,  maybe there’s a masochistic gene in us all so whatever happens from here on in, we will always have the A316 and last Saturday night.

  I’ve seen quite a few England v Wales games, in my time, in fact there aren’t many matches that haven’t been memorable for one reason or another.

As a child growing up in Wales in the early 1960s this match was the be all and end all , and the nations mood for each following year was determined by the result of this one game.

In our fantasies we all won our first cap against England, when we played in the park it was always against England and the commentator was Bill McLaren, we all perfected wonderful Scottish brogues through the years of commentating on our own little games.

England were special they looked good, their backs were handsome young men with brylcreem in their hair, and they could play eighty minutes in mud, and still emerge with pristine white kit, amazing.

I find it difficult to comprehend that I have watched England play Wales at the least once a year for forty eight years

From black and white Keith Jarrett in 1967,  to glorious technicolor George North, via JPR and his two tries ,and even more stitches in 1976, Ieuan Evans kick and chase in 1993, Scott Gibbs, Max Boyce and Tom Jones at Wembley in 1999, not to mention Grand Slam Gav in 2005

But tommorow in the 2015 Rugby World Cup at Twickenham we have probably the greatest encounter of all time.

My days of park rugby are over and sadly the voice of rugby is no longer here with us but that anticipation and excitement for an England v Wales encounter is not diminished by the years that pass

I shall have a fitful sleep tonight, watching those tries and tackles and giving thanks to the man upstairs for giving us this wonderful passion for the great game that we cherish,  and whose values we protect at all cost

May the game be won by a touch of brilliance from either side , and keep the magic of this great rivalry going for the next generation to savour.

So we are finally underway

Rugby World Cup 2015 was launched last night at a packed Twickenham.

The cold hard facts are that England beat Fiji 35-11 and achieved a bonus point win despite a very scrappy performance, in a game that lost all flow, not helped by the constant TMO referrals

But enough of that, the capacity crowd created a party atmosphere and a racket that must have had the locals reaching for the Twickenham councils anti social noise phone helpline

Surely never has the bastion of English rugby rocked to “Sweet Caroline” which nearly drowned out John Inverdale and Clive Woodward, sadly it wasn’t quite loud enough

The opening ceremony had shades of London 2012. The film montage showing Prince Harry in one of his more acceptable fancy dress outfits, not quite James Bond and Her Majesty, but still a double take moment

ITV’s coverage was reasonable enough and inevitably, given the circumstances. A bit of an England “love-in” with Wilkinson, Dallagio and Woodward lined up in the studio like a very stern parole board

But hey it’s early days we will all be back for more today

As we crammed into a capsule on the London Eye on Monday evening, there stood at the front was an imposing figure, in a red T shirt, a man who is adored by the people of his country, Wales, and I am one of his people.

The phrase national treasure is an overused one these days but in Adam Jones case it couldn’t be more apt

A South African TV crew took the first interview, I could see them struggling to comprehend his delightfully gentle Abercrave drawl, they may have put subtitles on their piece for the folks back home when it is aired.

As the film lights went out and the cameras were packed away, the only two Welshmen in the capsule shook hands

High above the Thames, we asked each other the first question any respectable Welshman will ask another, when they first meet “where you from ” .?

Rugby World Cup took a back seat  as we discussed my Auntys house in “Ystradgynlais” just down the road from Adams home village of Abercrave

He looks fit and toned, it is difficult to comprehend that his international playing days are over,  he appears to be in his prime, and his skill and experience will be a great loss to Wales in the upcoming World Cup.

He is now adjusting to life in Surrey and a career with Harlequins, as he said ‘all a bit different from back home ”

His autobiography has just been released and the book signing sessions are in full flow

As we say in Wales there is no “side” to Adam Jones, he was always the fans, or the people’s player, and when he played for Wales you felt he represented you

A gentle and apparently sensitive character , which is in total contrast to his physical appearance  ,the man is like granite on the outside,  its like hitting a wall, one slight bump of the London  Eye and I bounced off those giant shoulders like a pinball, no wonder he has ruled the scrum for so many years.

I have a theory that he was not born but “mined” from Dan-yr-ogof caves , that can be the only explanation for such solidity

I guess journalists shouldn’t have favourites but I do and I was delighted and honoured to meet one of mine

Adam will be adored at Harlequins they will take him to their hearts and as my new neighbour , I would like to wish him and his family a happy and healthy stay in leafy Surrey

i write this article in a small bar in Barcelona, it is early Sunday morning and the warm sun is shining through the doorway ,illuminating the dark wooden floors, and an aroma of strong coffee fills the air.

In 5 days time the Rugby World Cup starts, but in Catalonia it doesn’t even exist.

This distance from home has cleared my mind, It has brought home to me how much our wonderful game fills my life.

It always had, maybe I am shallow , but through all the brickbats that life has thrown at me, and there have been a few, the one constant was rugby, and the thought that at any given time, it would only be a matter of months before my beloved Wales would be playing again.

But back to RWC, through the wonders of modern technology details of every injury, every welcoming ceremony, and every newspaper souvenir supplement has made its way to me and it somehow seems even more exciting.

It takes me back to 1971, the years before Sky, and we had only just invented colour television ! The British Lions tour of New Zealand took place, and the only way for a spotty thirteen year old me to obtain coverage of the tests, was to tune in at 3am on a transistor radio , to a crackly short wave NZ radio station and listen under the bed covers ,so as not to wake the rest of the family

When I say transistor radio, it wasn’t as you imagine some ear-pieced light weight item, it was about the size of a picnic hamper, the battery alone was the size and shape of a Madeira cake, and it had a lid that acted like a mouse trap every time your tried to adjust the tuner

There were no interviews , no pictures , but my imagination produced images better than sky BT Sport and the BBC could ever hope to broadcast

But, I digress ! The game has changed beyond all recognition from those black and white halycon days, but what hasn’t is the passion, the excitement, the anticipation, the quest for tickets

I am flying home later today to more supplements , and to fine tune my training prior to Friday, when it all starts.

I’ve been tapering since 2011 so I have to fit it all in to one Pilates session on Thursday, yet I am confident of being ready

I hope you are ready, I hope you have a great RWC ,and if the ball doesn’t bounce your way in 2015, may you be spared to do it all again in Japan in 2019

Yours in rugby

Mike

Wales v Italy

Even the cover of the match day programme looked sombre and funereal, was this a portent of the events to follow in Cardiff ? as the late afternoon sun gave way to heavy clouds sweeping up the river Taff, their Colour ? black

Wales ran out the tunnel at 16:54 to flame throwers, fireworks, an expectant 50,000 crowd not in their traditional glorious scarlet shirts, but this time in their away kit, shirts with gold trim but the main colour ? black

The negative dark shade subsided fir a brief moment, at 12:35 of the first half,when a glorious break, by man of the match , Scott Williams ended in a try for George North, Black Magic.

The darkness descended as Rhys Webb, after ten minutes of treatment on the pitch , was stretchered off taking in oxygen to ease the pain ,the atmosphere in the stadium changed completely, the mood turned…. Black

From then on in, we all just wanted the game to pass quickly with no further injury, but the worst was yet to come.

As Leigh Halfpenny ran for a loose ball his studs appeared to get caught in the turf, and his already heavily bandaged knee gave way as he collapsed onto the green grass.

Another black moment perhaps the blackest of all !

On the stadium big screen we all saw his knowing look, the look of a man, whom after months of hard work, has had his World Cup dream shattered.

His eyes were filling up as the sweat and tears cascaded down on to his shirt …the colour?  black

The record books will show Wales win, but the crowds mood at the final whistle was not one of victory, of optimism, of looking forward to. rugby World Cup, our sadness was for Rhys and Leigh, and as we all as the headed out of the darkness, of the stadium with the roof firmly shut, into the late evening sunshine , the mood was Truely ….Black