Upon leaving for the Land of the Rising Sun

This will be my first-ever visit to Japan – a veritable treat sprung upon me only ten days ago – and I have barely had time to leave Himself adequately set-up to run the family in my absence as I now look forward with barely-concealed excitement to seeing something of the beguiling nation that has been hosting the Rugby World Cup with such brio and elan.

It was inevitable that since the events of last weekend the British Isles – well, certainly the media and the circles I move in – have been preoccupied with the approaching semi-final matches.

Like I suspect many, my family has been planning its different set-ups for watching the games  – we have one tribe congregating together on Friday night with a plan for an early (0600 hours UK time) group reveille, ablutions and a half-mile walk before a full-cooked fry-up before settling in front of the television as ITV’s coverage of England v New Zealand begins.

Another is already committed to following its consistent practice thus far of joining the convivial ‘communal’ atmosphere at its local pub.

No complaint from me for their choice – we accompany them there whenever we got to stay with them on a Six Nations weekend and it is a hard experience to beat.

The third – my own – will be teaming up with two other nearby families to watch the game together courtesy of the generosity of neighbours down the road fortunate enough to possess a mini-cinema set-up in their basement.

Those family members uninterested in rugby are already planning mass party games and sundry other distractions elsewhere in the house so hopefully all will be catered for and enjoy their respective times apart.

Meanwhile, of course, before I departed, there was a gradual anticipation building in many quarters.

Coverage on the sports pages, reported by those rugby correspondents on the spot, has inevitably been built around the obligatory daily team press conferences at which squad players with varying degrees of enthusiasm are fielded for the benefit of the world’s equivalent of Fleet Street’s finest.

These are strange events to experience in the flesh.

All those involved – squads, coaches, press officers, RWC administrators and indeed the hacks – are engaged in a communal task to fuel and grow interest in the tournament by producing ‘fodder for the masses’ around the globe.

New ‘stories’ are required daily and therefore (to an extent) new problems, enmity between coaches (real or contrived for the purpose) and injury bulletins – truthful or otherwise – become the habitual gruel, hopefully leavened by the occasional breaking sensation.

Much also depends upon those who upon any given day sit behind the microphone.

Some like Eddie Jones never fail to give ‘good copy’: I loved his jibe 36 hours ago, replying to a leading question from a Kiwi reporter – “Look, we know you guys [the NZ press], you’re just fans with keyboards …”

Obtaining anything from some other coaches and players, however, brings the saying about “getting blood from a stone” to mind.

Generally, players tend to vary between those who are big characters and comfortable talking to the press – for example, somewhat against type, the England Mohican-haircutted loosehead prop Joe Marler, who has his demons, is naturally gregarious and zany; those who are quieter but through media training or experience have developed a passable ability to deliver the goods; and those whom, to be frank, arrive with body language signalling they’d rather be hanging from a wall in a darkened dungeon than appear in from of the cameras … and then talk like it as well.

Because I’m an Englishwoman many of my rugby conversations since the weekend have majored upon the size of the challenge facing the England team on Saturday.

The overwhelming majority of opinions expressed, by both rugby nuts and those who are not, give our boys two chances of victory – the proverbial slim and none. The betting odds I’ve seen reflect a similar view.

I don’t reject any of the above out of hand.

The facts, form and history all favour the All Blacks – their win-percentage is one of the highest in any sport and always has been. I read a piece somewhere yesterday that statistically, over the past 116 years since their first international test match, 14 of the 21 nations that New Zealand have played have never beaten them.

If I was to summarise the average England supporter opinion I’ve come across it would be that having reached the semi-final was a good outcome and probably the minimum that would have given Eddie Jones and the squad a mark out of 10 higher than 6.

Anything less than that and the critics would have been queuing up to throw “I told you so!” barbs at Jones and his period at the helm.

Anything more now – in other words an appearance – or even (dare I say it) a victory – in the Final, especially if it were to be against Wales – would send the needle off the scale.

For me, England began the tournament slowly – no bad thing – and have been building momentum.

So far there has not yet been a signature performance and there’s no doubt they need one on Saturday.

A win is possible, if only at the base level that it’s a game of rugby and on any given day anything can potentially happen – just as it can in any sport.

I wouldn’t go so far as the old family friend – a former senior member of the RFU – who rang me on Tuesday to wish me well in my adventure and claimed he was 100% certain England will reach the Final (“Put £1,000 upon it, I’m telling you …” were his exact words), but if England play like they can, and if the rub of the green fall their way, they might just do it.

Anyway – forget all that – here’s to my first plate of shushi, followed by a Fuju steak, actually consumed in Tokyo ..!