My foot will be fully to the floor against Scotland on Sunday

When I was six years old, my family moved from London to Edinburgh and that is why I came up through the Scottish rugby representative system and played for Lothian Schools and then Scotland U19s and U21s.

However, when I started playing senior rugby I decided that, actually, I was not Scottish but English and I wanted to play for the country of my birth. It's a decision I have never regretted, even when I was stuck on just one cap for five years, or when I missed out on selection for the 2007 Rugby World Cup.

The reason I'm explaining this is that in the build-up to this week's game my "Scottishness" has been raised by the media on a daily basis. They want to know if I have any mixed loyalties going into the match; if I will be humming along to "Flower of Scotland".

This couldn't be further from the truth. There will be the usual pre-match nerves but it will be no different than before any other England match.

For me it's just another Six Nations match. The people who it is hardest for are my Scottish school friends and three of them are coming to watch Sunday's match.

These true Scots are put in a difficult position, who do they cheer for? Their national team or their good friend who happens to play for the Auld Enemy! Perhaps they hope for a draw.

If you happen to hear anyone shouting "Go on, Palmer" in a thick Scotch accent then there is a good chance they went to Boroughmuir High School in Edinburgh.

As there were no games in the Six Nations last weekend Martin Johnson decided that the best thing for the players would be a light training week, a change of scenery and a bit of fun.

We decamped to Oxford and checked into the Randolph Hotel. The training sessions were worthwhile, high quality, but uneventful - unlike our downtime.

We took part in a high-performance driving afternoon where we drove some sports cars. On my first lap, i discovered the track started with a long straight before entering a series of tight bends.

Now bear in mind that the pedals are very close together in a super car and I've got size 13 feet.

I decided to floor it down the straight and was approaching the first corner in third gear doing just over 100mph. The instructor told me to brake, and I did, but unfortunately my big feet pressed down on both the brake and accelerator!

At this point I panicked, tried to press harder on the break, only making the situation worse and we shot off the track. With the instructor screaming "get off the accelerator" I managed to bring us to a stop.

No harm was done but two new pairs of pants were needed. Amazingly, they allowed me back into one of the cars but only after agreeing to drive barefoot.