I made a significant impact on my unwritten “things to do before I’m 30” list this weekend, by finally managing to get to see a match at Twickenham. Either on my way back from work, or on my way to Tesco’s, I’ve probably walked past that stadium at least a hundred times in the (nearly) three years that I’ve lived in London. I finally made it inside there for the first time on Saturday evening to see England take on France.

Unlike last week’s narrow defeat in Paris, this time the team actually included the players who are likely to be going to the world cup next month, and it showed. Having said that, for the first half an hour it looked like Jonny Wilkinson’s superb kicking would be the sole difference between the sides. Once the tries came, though, England quickly built up a commanding lead, and the game was effectively over by half time. In fact, such was the extent by which the game was wrapped up that, in a particularly quiet moment midway through the second half, a mexican wave started its way around the crowd and didn’t stop until it had done at least three full circuits – much to the amusement of the two American guys behind me (one of whom had brought a radio along to help him understand what was going on. They had both earlier been having the rules of the game patiently explained to them by the English guy sitting next to them).

All of which Top Trumps Pete by some way, considering he’s lived in the area for his entire life and hasn’t made it to a match yet. At least it only took me 2 1/2 years…