The forecast was that bad that on the trains north on Saturday morning they were warning passengers to abandon any plans to travel back that way on Sunday. By the time the service reached Peterborough they were promising free passage back to London for anyone who wanted to turn tail already. A couple of England fans on a corporate freebie sitting near me made it as far as York before they gave up. Even the England team rearranged their schedule so they could fly out later Saturday night, as soon as they had done what they had to do. It was one of those nights, one to admire from behind the curtains while you’re beside the fire.
“Worst conditions you’ve ever played in?” they asked Stuart Hogg afterwards. “Definitely.”
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