I joined Town House in 1983, a mere 40 years ago. Honestly, I recall that moment as if it were a mere 40 minutes ago, or even 40 seconds.

Rugby School gave me opportunity to define my own pathway. I was not one of those polymaths, those gifted all-rounders, popular trend-setters, movers and shakers, influencers. I was, however, hard-working, earnest and keen to be the best that I could be in all the areas in which I had an interest and a modicum of ability. I joined the Astronomy Club. I liked programming my Sinclair ZX81, which has 1k of RAM, later augmented to 16k. I liked the nerdiness of reading Greek. Reading Homer’s Iliad in its original form felt like a special privilege. In truth, there were not very many areas of life in which I excelled, but I definitely found my niche and, as I have often remarked to prospective Rugby School families, there were five key foundations upon which I have built my career.

I was good at Mathematics - my father was a maths teacher. I earned the top grade and the highest possible mark in O Level in the E Block and I matched that in AO Maths in the D Block and at A Level too.

I was good at Latin and especially at Greek, and it was those three subjects which allowed me to access universities for a degree and a postgraduate teaching qualification.

I was good at hitting cricket balls, or more precisely at leaving cricket balls - I was by my own admissions rather a dour left-handed opening batsman - and waiting for the bad ball to hit, or to nurdle for a single. It was a simple but effective technique, and the two centuries which I scored on The Close in my XX year in 1988 were proud moments. I remember that euphoric feeling as if it was 35 seconds ago.

Finally, there was the role to which I was arguably best-suited, scrummaging, pushing people on the rugby football field. We didn’t see much of the ball in those days, but I gather that it was brown, made of leather, perhaps with a pig’s bladder inside, and it had laces tightening the skins together.

I had made the loose head prop position my own at Bilton Grange, and I loved the uniqueness of that role. One was always in the game, literally at the front end of it. A growth spurt during puberty saw me flirt briefly with the second row and even the back row, but before long I was back where I belonged, and that niche saw me play club rugby for 20 years in the Midlands, the London and even the National Leagues.

My first Rugby School training session in the F Block was up at Springhill – what luxury it is that our young guard players now make the briefest of strolls over to Hillbrow! My first coach, Guy Steele-Bodger, was impressive, playing for and later captaining both Northampton RFC and Rugby Lions. He was rumoured to be a fellow Rugbeian, Tudor House apparently, and a front row player like me, albeit at hooker. Later, I was honoured to be guided by Peter Dewey and by Malcolm Lee, his coaching wisdom given that little bit of extra edge by means of his passionate Welsh accent, and by the legend, David Ray, Captain Ray in those days but later Colonel! As I moved up the various A teams – there was occasionally a B but there were not C and D teams in those days, merely Countings House matches – I found myself playing ever closer to the Doctor’s Wall and to the Webb Ellis plaque. I played rather more of my rugby on Pontine’s rather than on Old Bigside, but it is immensely gratifying to have returned to where I started, to my alma mater, and to referee and to play as an adult on that hallowed turf. I played in the Cock House final of 1986, with the whole School in attendance. That remains the biggest game I have ever played, even surpassing my appearance for Norwich against Plymouth Albion and my single cap for Norfolk against Essex.

The game of rugby is a gateway to the world. At its best, it is inclusive – all shapes, sizes and abilities are welcome. At Norwich RFC, I played for all six mens’ teams, and the diversity of the front row saw me, a teacher, partnered with surgeons and bricklayers, lawyers and vets, prison officers and ex-convicts. On one memorable occasion, part of the bricklayer’s ear fell off during training on the scrummage machine, and the surgeon simply reattached it. Wherever I have lived, joining the local rugby club has brought me friends in new places. I learned the geography of Merseyside playing for Sefton. I explored the Peak District playing for Nottingham Casuals, and I discovered the dark clubs of Nuneaton and Coventry playing more recently for Rugby Welsh. Every rugby football context was rich and valuable, every team full of characters and (questionable) role models.

And so to what must be my final game, the bicentenary match in June for a Rugbeian XV against the Wooden Spoon charity. Here I was, back where I started, at loose head prop, a Scottish international at my left hip, a South African legend providing ballast at my right buttock. What a privilege the distinctive features of the Rugby game have afforded me!

Tim Day (BG 74-83, T 83-88)

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