From the Cabbage Patch to Twickenham: A Surreal Start

Two days ago I was still at home, and yesterday we drove all the way from Exeter to London. By the time we rolled into the city it was just after 8pm... late, tired, but buzzing with anticipation. And here we are, staying literally opposite the legendary Cabbage Patch pub, probably the most famous rugby pub in the world. Sadly, the mural is nowhere to be found (which feels a bit like turning up to Disneyland and finding Mickey’s gone AWOL), but still, being right here on Twickenham’s doorstep feels absolutely magic.

The journey had been long, so we popped across for some food, hydrated, and tried to relax. Well, “tried” being the key word. Sleep didn’t exactly join the party. Between peri-menopausal night-itching (glamorous, I know) and usual stump pain, it wasn’t my most restful night. But this morning swept all that aside with something surreal: a flurry of interviews.

First up was Radio Jackie, & Radio Devon, my local stalwarts who have backed me every step of the way. Talking about myself still feels odd, like I’m narrating someone else’s story, but the warmth and support from these conversations was humbling. From Sunday, I’ll even be giving daily updates, a bit like a rugby-flavoured “John O’Groats to Land’s End.”

Walking (wheeling!) into Twickenham

Then came the big one: Twickenham. I had no idea what to expect. It was blazing hot, I was sweating like mad, but the moment I wheeled into that vast, empty stadium... quiet, still, waiting, I felt something shift. Privileged doesn’t even cover it. I’ve been here before, but never like this. The gates to the pitch were open, and I rolled straight onto the hallowed turf. Surreal doesn’t do it justice. From the stands, the pitch always looks big. From the ground, it feels enormous.

And then people arrived. Loads of them. I hadn’t realised this launch event was… well, about me and the journey ahead, the Race to Womens Rugby World Cup. The sheer kindness of those who turned up blew me away.

Young players spoke with passion and brilliance. Chantelle nailed it. Zainab Alema (Zee) powerhouse, legend, and Instagram encourager, was electric. Victoria Rush, the visionary behind No Woman, No Try, introduced herself, and I was genuinely starstruck. And then Sarah Massey... eloquent, powerful, generous with her words. Each time someone spoke about me, I instinctively looked around to check if they meant someone else. Imposter syndrome is alive and well.

And then came the moment: I was handed the whistle. Golden, engraved, gleaming. My eyes prickled. This is real. This is happening. My job? Guard it with my life and get it to where it needs to be. (I’ll admit, it may not leave my sight until then.)

The day was a blur of sweat, handshakes, and extraordinary conversations. I chatted to a young lad from Southampton who plays wheelchair rugby. His story opened up the tantalising idea that maybe, just maybe, there’s a way onto the pitch for me one day. The thought alone excites me, though I know my current commitments take priority. Still, it’s a spark I’ll carry.

Later, back at the Cabbage Patch, we regrouped. The walls are lined with rugby greats, a humbling reminder of the company this pub keeps. The team were brilliant, even if Helli had forgotten her laptop (cue some creative problem-solving and a bonus cameo from Paul, who drove up from Exeter to London with it). It turned out to be a blessing, because he got to meet the rest of the crew, and Megan, who is every bit as warm and smiley in person as she is on Zoom.

We talked logistics, flare-ups, and the kind of honest prep you need when heading into something huge. This group, solid, kind, unflappable, and supportive, they make me feel ready. And that, in itself, is gold.

Tomorrow is “medication day,” which I don’t love, but it’s part of the package. I tried to keep media commitments light, but somehow agreed to two slots anyway. I couldn’t not, the charity is so important to me, Id do anuthing for them! In the evening, there’s more filming and another round of prep.

And then? I’ll pack my kit, double-check everything, and mentally frame the coming challenge as a training session. That mindset has carried me before, and it will again.

For now, I’m full of gratitude, slightly sunburned, and already looking forward to another gluten-free pizza at the Cabbage Patch tomorrow night. If consistency is the secret to success, I’m nailing it.

This is only the beginning.