If Instagram is to be believed, there wasn't a single person not drinking Pimm's or tanning their pasty legs on a small patch of grass in the UK on Saturday. Without making excuses, the Pimm's consumption was only fair given the frayed nerves of the nation at large. Westminster might like to think the population cares deeply about the Falkirk saga, but what most people cared about this week, when it came to domestic issues at least, was a slender 26-year-old and his tennis racket.
There is something very special about a Lions tour, and despite my on-the-field melt down, I made some great friends, and learnt a huge amount about myself and my rugby. It was exactly the kick up the arse that I needed to realise that I did want to carry on playing and that I was not the centre of the Universe (something that I still struggle with from time to time!)