Open up Microsoft Word...
The focus now is on England. Scotland haven't won away at Twickenham since 1983, which is the year that seat-belt use became mandatory in the UK, the first mobile phones were put to market by Motorola, and Microsoft Word was first released.
I played in the game, had my first McDonald's the following (hung-over) morning, and I've wanted this particular away record put to bed ever since.
Could Scotland beat England this year, 28 years later?
It seems unlikely, but it is possible.
But first a look back at Sunday and a nail-biting .
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Who will win, this coming weekend? Should a Martian, newly landed on this earth, be asked his or her views he or she would say that Ireland are favourites .
Assuming Martians can be assigned a gender.
, was incredibly misguided when he said that winning or losing in sport wasn't a matter of life or death - but much more important.
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Oh dear! Saturday started off so well. A bit of telly, a bit of radio, a bite of lunch, some fireworks, the anthems - and then behind the microphone for the game with all the excitement of a 15-year-old who's bought a train ticket and had the chance to sit beside the girl he fancies.
And then? Well, some Scots in the crowd left early and that tells you something.
What I don't understand is how a good team, a team that's beaten , and recently, slumped the way it did in the . The beauty, or the horror, of sport is that you can't win all the time and sometimes you have really, really bad days.
Let's touch on psychology first, arguably the most powerful motivator in any aspect of life. If you want some food, you'll buy it. If you really, really need some food, you'll do anything to get it.
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Ah well, so the French have the "Gaul" to overcharge, and it's not with an Asterix but comes with an exclamation mark - the price of one beer, so I am told, was 16 euros in a pub some chums frequented.
So I write this at the airport after the traditional fruitless but fun-filled fan attempt at getting home from Paris.
was trying to get the late train from Gare du Nord on Saturday evening and how on earth he got there I don't know as, it seems to me anyway, there isn't a single rugby ground in the world that treats its fans leaving the stadium as a worthwhile exercise in pain reduction.
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I was born in Borneo, spent my formative years swinging from the trees, and you might know me as an international rugby player, but now I'm off to London to give you my opinion on all things Olympic as part of the Ö÷²¥´óÐã Scotland Sport Nation Olympic team.
