I thought that seeing as I’d bored you all senseless earlier this week with an evangelical blog about ice hockey, it would be appropriate to have a natter about good old hockey, or field hockey as the Americans rather irritatingly refer to it. It is also highly topical because England’s men are going great guns in the World Cup in India. They’ve won three out of three in their group and have already beaten the likes of Australia (hurrah), South Africa and most recently Pakistan. The semi-finals are within touching distance and their progress has been exceptional since becoming European champions last year.

Now I love hockey and always have. I used to love the aggression of smacking seven bells out of the ball. I was the captain and centre-forward of my school team and at sixth form we played to a very high level. I also used to love Easter tournaments, which were only slightly more civilised than rugby tours and one of my most endearing sporting memories is scoring a reverse flick goal in a very testy mixed tournament match in Newquay. I raised my index finger in solemn salute to my friends who were watching the clubhouse. Alas the organisers of the event were also watching from the clubhouse and they thought I was giving them the finger. I had an awful lot of explaining to do I can tell you. And I didn’t do that again.

I watched in glorious admiration when Britain and the lovely Sean Kerly (hockey's answer to Gary Lineker) won magnificent gold at Seoul in 1988 – where were the Germans and frankly who cares......? But times have been a little harder for hockey since then, especially for the men. Happily this performance in India from England looks like it could be significant pointer to how a British team might shape up in London 2012. Happy days. I shall certainly be watching with interest.

I fear my own hockey playing days are long gone. I last brandished a stick in anger about 14 years ago when I joined a very dear friend of mine for a match in Chiswick. She was going out with Mark Lawrenson at the time, yes the Mark Lawrenson, who had come along to watch and so wanted to make a good impression. But she was helpless for the entire match, as was I, after I slipped and fell over when I ran into the toilets in the shower area. I think we can safely use the word aquaplane, which is what I did on the wet floor. When I stood up there was no skin left on either knee. The match hadn’t even started.

We laughed non-stop for 10 minutes, made worse by the expression on Lawro’s face when as I hobbled out of the changing rooms. I played right wing and was so awful they didn’t ask me back.......It’s okay. I’m over it now...... Happily I discovered running instead!! Speaking of which I have done 12 miles in the last 5 days. 12 bloody miles. I could almost run the marathon..... that was a joke I hasten to add. But I shall be pounding the streets again tomorrow while dreaming hazily about my hockey days and what might have been.....