People play Christmas songs. Personally I am a fan. I think they can explain every element of the festive period. So let's do it.
Would I like it to be Christmas every day? I enjoy this time of year. I enjoy choosing good gifts. I've been to schools and daycares dressed as Santa Claus, and my post-retirement belly has lent an authenticity to my performance that previous years lacked.
Despite all this, the answer for me is a resounding no. Imagine the scene at the Marler house on Boxing Day night. The gifts have been opened. I built the high gymnastics beam for my oldest daughter. I tried and I fell. I built the unicorn scooter for my youngest daughter and was smart enough to realize that if I try it too, there won't be any unicorn scooter left that anyone else can fall off of.
But it is an almost silent night. The children stopped having high sugar levels and went to bed. Some of them are even asleep, which hopefully means they can't hear the strange noises coming from their parents in the living room. Wait, what's going on here? Is mom kissing Santa Claus? No, she's helping him throw the Christmas tree out the window, that's what's happening.
We were done with everything. The ornaments were back in their boxes, the lights were turned off, and the tree was headed toward the yard. All good, except that the tree was very fibrous and, since it was defenestrated (full disclosure, I had help from Daisy with this word), it dropped every single one of the needles in its arsenal on the living room floor. Which created a lovely new Christmas tradition the next morning: the whole family kneeling down, picking up thousands of dead pine needles from the carpet.
Conclusion: Christmas in one day is absolutely fine. Christmas every day would lead to debt, crying, and everyone having the same constitution as a fixture who stopped going to the gym even before the first Christmas lights came on. Considering that when I look in the full-length mirror the moment I see a melted dumpster staring back at me, this is not a good thing. Well. Last Christmas. Huge melody. Mixed memories for me: I was preparing with my Harlequins teammates for the big game against Gloucester at Twickenham. Certainly different vibes than George Michael.
Joe Marler embraced the holiday spirit while talking about Christmas traditions in his home.
The former England star candidly admitted that retirement came at the right time in his life.
She opened up about the chaotic joys of Christmas in the Marler household with her four children.
Did I give him my heart? Only partially. The Great Game is a beautiful tradition. Twickenham is different to usual and that's not a bad thing. But I didn't really fancy spending any more time with Joe Launchbury and Danny Care than my non-rugby family, so I booked an Airbnb for everyone in south-west London to try and tie it all together.
It was only a partial success. I know there won't be much sympathy for a professional rugby player over Christmas; Sure, you miss out on a special day with your loved ones, but you get paid to play sports and you get paid enough to make many other days special.
I was still tempted to take an illness. It's a bit Scroogey, I admit. Perhaps retirement has come at the right time. The same goes for East 17's Stay Another Day. Not playing over this Christmas means I've watched more rugby games than ever before, and not just the Leicester Tigers ones, so I can watch Dan Cole jogging.
But I haven't found myself wishing I'd stayed another day, week, or month longer. Instead, I have enjoyed watching it. I've enjoyed coming up with ideas about how we can make our sport even better to watch. I might even write a future Mail Sport column on the subject. Watch this space.
To the big one. Do you know it's Christmas? This is a big question for me and I'm not sure anyone has ever answered it satisfactorily.
First things first. Who exactly do we define as “they”? If we take the spirit of the original Band Aid single and assume it's the people of Ethiopia, it's a yes for me, not just for the efforts of Sir Bob Geldof and the rest of the team, but for the long tradition of Christian thought. in that part of East Africa.
Beyond that, there are about 8.5 billion people on this planet of ours. How many of them know it's Christmas? Now it gets more difficult. People of other religions know Christmas, even if they don't celebrate it. I'm told that in Japan they celebrate the day by going out and buying a big bucket of KFC, which is the kind of idea any frontline forward might have in their head.
But what about isolated tribes in parts of the world less affected by our seasonal consumer frenzy? Surely a Christian missionary could have carried the message to these distant lands. But do they really know Christmas like we do? Are they covering the front porch of their homes with icicle lights purchased from the nearest home store emporium? Are they building unicorn scooters? Are they throwing trees through the living room windows?
The 34-year-old ended his career in November after 15 years as a professional.
It's difficult and it's something I'd like to think about more. But I can tell you one group who certainly know it's Christmas: all those RFU bigwigs who handed out massive bonuses this year, having told us players during Covid that we were all in this together, and then decided to keep the players in the cuts and at the same time pay for themselves. They don't need Christmas to come every day. He has already done it.
To Dean Martin. Deano made his position clear: he wanted to let it snow. I'm with him, on one condition: it snows well. Not this half-snow, half-rain garbage nonsense, where it stays for half a day and then turns into brown mush. I want proper snow. The kind that means you can't leave the house. The kind that knocks down branches and leaves you eating canned tangerine slices for breakfast.
This year, thanks to a lovely lady called Amy from the Aurora Zone tour operator, I had the opportunity to take the trip of a lifetime – taking the kids to Lapland just before the big day. It was incredible. The depth of the snow! The sound of your feet crunching through it! The sound of my children laughing as they watched the poor reindeer on the front of my sleigh try to keep us up the slightest slope!
But this world of ours does not stand still for anyone, so before raising our glasses, some reflections forward and backward. My rugby highlight of the year? An easy one: presenting Fin Baxter with his first cap in the Eden Park dressing room in front of his father. Handing a cap but also passing the baton to my teammate and long-term successor in England. That's a beautiful thing.
I want us all to celebrate everything Antoine Dupont did this year. Everything he touched turned to gold. Who is this monster? I love everything about him.
And a couple of wishes for the next year of rugby. I would love to see England attack the Six Nations with the same kind of adventure that saw us beat Ireland at Twickenham last March. I would love to see that adventure shown consistently, not just after losses. And I want the British and Irish Lions tour to be everything the Covid-ruined series of 2021 wasn't. I want to get back to the sea of red in the stands. I want noise, passion and drama. I want the series to move on to a decisive third test and for us to win it! Sound like a deal?