Its that time again. The only time that the Taff looks fondly to the East where the Saxon dwells. The time when steak is cooked rare for three weeks. The time when wistful thoughts of Englishmen crying into their beer swells the hearts of the lowliest Welsh peasant. Twickenham time is here.HQ, as Twickenham is fondly referred to by establishment types, is situated to the south west of London in an impeccably correct locale so quintessentially middle class English that even the dogs bark in Received Pronunciation. It is unique amongst the home nations grounds as it is a considerable distance from the capital of the country where one would expect to find it. The area it sits in is green belt and red brick and is a stones throw away from Kew Gardens, Old Deer Park ( London Welshs ground ), Richmond Park and Wimbledon.To the consternation of the local gentry it is beholden on them to accommodate the Welsh hordes for a few hours every two years. It is an odd arrangement as everyone in the village seems to be in mourning on the day of the match; every curtain in every house is closed. Stranger still, the match day seems to coincide with the Festival of Padlocks. As we would adorn our homes with mistletoe or daffodils the good people of Twickenham adorn theirs with padlocks and chains.Again its that time.