This year we have invested in a Calendar. The children have all left home and anyway I was tiring of scrubbing the marker pen off the first born every month, and some days had started to blur into one another in those hard to reach crevices. Besides I was beginning to fear the day when young Timmy extracted some payback with the old brillo pad.

We have gone old school with the calendar and bought one from 2008 as the days are nearly always the same as this year and they were on offer at B and M. We have taken a leaf from Moonpig and each month is now decorated with a photocopy of a family member showing their better side. September has the splendid Grandma, reluctant yet defiant, glaring towards the viewer. We should have looked longer to find her new top set, but as it took three of us to press her face into the glass, beggars can’t be choosers.

It catches her open eye well, though, and I can see it from here following me round the kitchen, which is some achievement as I am currently on a train to Knaresborough.

The upside of all this Calendar business is that I am absolutely certain that this Saturday sees the return of Rugby Football to our weekends. The lawn mower has joined the shopping trolleys in the canal until May and life has a whole meaning. We can forget the gloom of last year and bounce joyously towards the new season.

I say I am confident that Rugby has returned despite the best efforts of The Big Un who has tried to deface my entry in the Calendar by over writing it with an invitation to attend the Abbot’s Bromley Horn Dance, which apparently also takes place this Saturday. Despite the appeal of the Horn, I shall be making my way aboard the faithful charabanc to Dinnington. She fools no-one.

I know little of Dinnington, the place or the RUFC. My first thought was that they have rather over done it with the letter N, but still it is one less than Nunnington, near Flamingo Land, which has gone beserk with five. I have resorted to the old Wikithingy and Google Maps for enlightenment. You don’t need me to cut n paste it here for you. Off you pop and have a look.

I must admit that I am losing faith in Google maps; I have just searched for Dinnington on the old engine and it seems that just to the South West, next to the M1, there is a place called “Wales” and just to the South East, as the A57 bumps into Worksop, there is a town called “Rhodesia”. Do Ray Allen and Robert Mugabe know about this? A shocking piece of geopolitical re-alignment and Harry Gration never mentioned it on Look North.

So, nearly 500 words after I started, I should perhaps get on with talking about rugby.

I will get into the detail of our tussle with the good folk of Dinnington later in the week, so will begin my first week looking at the Rugby to be played with some ruminations on our new league and the general landscape.

When I pulled a quill off the goose to start writing this, the first word which jumped into my mind to describe how I think we will find the competition this season was “nuggety”. I am not really sure it’s a proper word but I just imagine our encounters with Alnwick, Horden, Wheatley Hills and everyone else will not be things of beauty; "one for the purists" they say on the telly when the fat lads stick it up their jumper. My apologies to the Barry John’s lurking in North 1 East, but without having seen a ball kicked, the word “nuggety” just seems apt.

I will jump to Dictionary corner to see what it actually means. Hang on a second.

Having looked through a few online dictionaries it seems the consensus is that it means “stocky” or “thickset”. Although that’s not what I was hoping for, I think there will certainly be the odd Stocky or thickset individual on view this season and apparently the origin of the word is a “nug” which means lump.

Yes, I think we will see some lumpy rugby this season.

According to the Urban Dictionary “nuggety” is the feeling you get after eating a McDonalds; Queazy, ashamed?

Anyway, that led me nowhere.

Dinnington were promoted into this division via the play off, while we were greasing ourselves down the pole from above. So neither side has any line of form – I will try and make some up for later in the week.

The other games this weekend begin with Driffield hosting Horden; the men from the deepest east, Driffield, finished fourth in this division last season, while Horden were the other club, alongside Ilkley, promoted directly into his league (i.e. not via play off) at the end of last term. Driffield lost more than they won in finishing fourth and it was their 19 bonus points which lifted them above teams with a better won/loss record. Their points total of 67 was a whole 45 behind runaway league winners Cleckheaton, so Horden must have a fair chance of running them close in this opener.

Next up, Northern play Alnwick, while its still light and the snow doesn’t come into it. This kind of fixture is sure the definition of nuggety; 36 Geordies knocking lumps off each other. Perhaps I am being rude and it will be a festival of running rugby. Alnwick won 9 of 26 last season and the home side won 11. I think they might squeak home by the pips.

Next up on the block, Old Crocodilians play host to Wheatley Hills. With Neil Spence and Benny Greaves coaching the Halifax side, I think we at the Bees almost have to sway towards Crocs, but as both sides won 11 of 26 last season it could be close.

Percy Park will entertain Rochdale and if they have retained their squad from last season, they should fill their boots; Sorry Rochdale, but I fear a hard day at the office. Feel free to prove me to be misguided, but from our experience with the Percy Parkas last season, this could be a tough one.

Ilkley journey to Pocklington. This is also a tough one to call, because I suspect the Henrys are sneakily fancying themselves this season. I see Pocklington as another set of nuggety beggars and will not have any players called Henry, Jeremy or Charles. Pocklington to sneak this one, says he, praying for a stereotype to bear fruit.

Last up we find West Hartlepool playing Sheffield. I always get confused, but I think this is the flavour of Hartlepool that didn’t hang any monkeys. I think they will have too much for the Archers (have you been to Sheffield’s ground? Last time I was there Robin of Loxley and his men were whanging arrows everywhere).

Here endeth today’s lesson. See you on Thursday or Friday with news from inside his masters leg.

Pip Pip. Scoop Dawg.