Laudus Himself

Pride comes before a fall There are a million ways you can be tackled in rugby, and they all hurt. The tap tackle is more painful than most, because it injures your pride. Rugby is a brutal, bruising contact sport where keeping control of the ball while pushing through pulverising hits is pivotal. The moment you know you are free of the pain and that white try line approaches, Elysium and eternal glory beckon. That’s all in your head and you don’t need to get hurt to be hurt in rugby, your confidence can be ripped from you along with the air in your lungs, by a tap tackle. The first time I was truly cut down by one I was a schoolboy. My stupid little scrum half legs got me free of the chase, in a game of sevens because I’m not so good I can really do it on a full pitch of fifteen. Scampering towards the immortal score, before I had time to know what was going on I was choking on grass, winded and confused. Nobody else was confused, they’d seen it. My bell well and truly rung, I got to ...

by Arron Phelps-Gardiner Rugby is going to war, you ride into battle every Saturday and play for the team and not as an individual. Well I did anyway. It also allows you to get rid of the week's frustrations in a positive environment. I started at secondary school but didn't start playing properly for a team until 1997. It's part of my identity, rugby, I started coaching at Chipstead RFC with the U5s, I finished my youth coaching journey last season with my players finishing Colts (U18s). I always wanted to cross the white line with my players and my son but this was brutally taken from me in the accident. So the next best thing was to take on a coaching role. I have had eleven of my players playing senior rugby and six playing for the first team this season. I think you can say I've done my job as a coach. I was playing for the British and Irish Lions Wooden Spoon national team. We were playing against Sterling RFC in Sterling when I was tackled illegally and snapped ...

A little bit of Hungarian food, drink and travel In Hungary I learned via television, which was all in foreign, that Hungary's favourite McDonald's special is the “Goosey Gustav”. Described by McDonald’s as “Beef patty, with goose liver slices fried on a contact grill, lamb's lettuce, sliced hot green pepper, grilled onions, slightly peppery sauce, in a shiny hamburger bun”, the idea of a foie gras burger had me staring at the TV advert I didn’t understand with dreams in my eyes. Who doesn’t want grilled goose liver on a burger, except for geese and cows. I’d say vegans but there aren’t any in Hungary, except maybe in a museum or zoo somewhere. A burger with grilled “foie gras” on top, in a brioche bun. Now if that sounds classy, it's because it is, but McDonald’s make it?! 24 hours into my stay in a country I immediately loved when I first came a few years ago, I had my Holy Grail. I had to try the limited edition Goosey Gustav. There for a week, my (Hungarian) girlfr...

THE BASTARD NOOSE ALL PARTS The red mist, an uncontrollable and immediate descending of violence perhaps not everyone knows. I’ve had it many times in my life and I’m mostly not proud of it. As one friend told me “your mouth has at least talked you out of as many fights as it’s talked you in to.” Shame they weren’t the same fights. Once it comes, there’s no stopping it, but I have got better. Entering a mental health ward I was as polite as I could be. Thrown into a world which scared the life out of me I still didn’t feel as badly off as the poor guys I shared an 18 room ward with. I definitely wasn’t dangerous, but one incident made me lose it to the point I’d have genuinely killed a man. The thing with nut nut* units is that we/they are they unstable, combustible. You have seriously unwell people as well as a sliding doors of men on the precipice of prison, waiting to be given the OK to leave and those headed the other way. I liked many of these, but geezers on their way inside who ...

The Super Bowl is a well known American phenomenon which I’m willing to bet most people outside of America don’t really understand much about past that it is the biggest, most important game of American football (every year). Over the last five years I have become an increasingly big fan of the sport, so much so that I am now and have always been a Philadelphia Eagles supporter. This year I booked the day after the Super Bowl off work so I could stay up late eating hot dogs, nachos and drinking bourbon while watching the Kansas City Chiefs defend their title against the San Francisco 49ers. My friend who joined me and my girlfriend to watch the Super Bowl said in the buildup that America is a mad country; I happen to like America but he has a point and the Super Bowl proved to be pure confirmation of quite how bonkers the land of the free is. BEDSIT CINEMA DRAFT DAY REVIEW For a starter, there was an alternative live game commentary by two of the actors from Spongebob Squarepants- in c...

“Hello lovely.” A fellow “mature” philosophy student, Anna adored alliteration. Even, dare I say, found it sexy. Sorry I could only manage three words my dear. Fiercely intelligent, a fellow philosophy graduate from my Uni and a person who would, I hope, have liked this reflection, recently had a full stop on breathing. Anna loved dogs, much like Hitler. She’d a sense of humour too and would appreciate me making that comparison. Anna was bloody funny. Brave yet wayward, my pal was always passionate: boasting a son she couldn’t love more, but struggled with the realities of. He was an excellent kid last time I saw him, despite her motherly complaints. Anna’s dog died recently. Her ex died recently. These things take their toll, and I know she loved them both deeply. Her dog was amazing, I never met her ex but her love was unconditional and everlasting. We tended to speak and meet between partners and/or mental health troubles. That was our bond and I now regret it wasn’t firmer. Posthum...