Spectator's Notebook
jWYNNE WALTERS had already looked twice at his watch. The Scots (clearly the better side throughout the match) were swarming near the English line. I was saying suitable things to a member of the Rugby Football Union—there is nothing I enjoy more than being a good winner. And then came Hancock's try. Yes, I know it will rank with Obolensky's. Yes, I know it was a marvellous individual effort. But it broke my heart. We haven't won at Twickenham since 1938. We were beaten this season in injury time by Wales, and in injury time we were robbed by England. Writing now, four days after the match, my pen runs with blood and tears. We keep the Calcutta Cup and own the wooden spoon. Any bitter note in this column for the next year should not be attributed to Quoodle. The sole responsibiiity should be put at the fast feet of A. W. Hancock.
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