I was a rugby player with a great future behind me.
I was, like, staring down the barrel of middle age with the con.
My son was locked in a violent turf war with a rival Love/Hate tour operator, my daughter was in love with a boy who looked like Justin Bieber and my old dear was about to walk up the aisle with a 92-year-old billionaire who thought it was still 1936.
A 35-year-old father-of-five with an expanding waistline, who was trying to survive the bloody battlefield we call everyday life.
I was a rugby player with a great future behind me