After a weekend of pain for both British nations south of Edinburgh, let's look ahead. Only because we can't bear to look back.
On Saturday, Lawrence Dallaglio and Wasps come up against Martin Corry and Leicester in the Powergen Cup semi-finals in Cardiff.
Seven days later, England go to Paris to play a resurgent France in the match which could ultimately decide the wonderfully topsy-turvy 2006 Six Nations championship, which could yet be won by anyone other than Italy.
By then perhaps, the great debate over the England captaincy may be decided. But it's all too late of course. The Grand Slam door is firmly shut.
It just doesn't make sense. England thump Wales, Scotland shock France, Wales crush Scotland, Ireland lose to France then humiliate Wales, Scotland beat England.
The last three words are the hardest to stomach for England supporters after Saturday's 18-12 overturning overture in Scotland. We've seen it all before. Especially at Murrayfield.
England turn up looking more confident, more professional and about a stone heavier per player.
They throw the ball around, flex their honed muscles and focus. Scotland play the bagpipes, bare their bottoms and hope. And win. And celebrate like Mel Gibson in a skirt. Ah, Murrayfield. Worryfield. Hurryfield. The problem with Edinburgh's wonderful rugby cauldron? It's in Scotland.
England will never be comfortable there, as long as it remains firmly rooted to the west of the Scottish capital. Dig it up, I say, move it brick-by-brick south of Hadrian's wall. Put it in Grimsby. Or Darlington. It's our only hope.
The Scots didn't even need to score a try to win, the first time that's happened in a Six Nations match since England's success in Paris six years ago. Former captain Martin Johnson insisted England should play the old-fashioned crush-and-kick game, instead they chose running, 'sexy' rugby, with centre Jamie Noon and the rest of the England backs haring off on their own in the latter stages, where they were routinely stripped of the ball by violent Scotsmen who would have taken scalps too if it wasn't seen as slightly old-fashioned these days. The statistics tell the rest of the story.
Scotland made 56 passes, England 168. Scotland made 112 tackles, England 36. Officially Scotland completed nine turnovers and England just two. Unofficially Scotland, with their one-arm-between-the-legs tackles, turned the ball over dozens of times.
And for the scorebook, Scotland's Chris Paterson kicked a perfect five penalties to add to a Dan Parks drop goal, while England's Charlie Hodgson kicked four out of five. Unbelievable.
So let's do the old stiff-upper-lip-thing and blame the ref. There's no question Irish whistler Alan Lewis tried to ruin the game. He wouldn't let anyone scrabble around on the floor, he blew up whenever the ball went loose, he spoiled large swathes of an epic contest. But he applied his awfulness with an even hand.
Even worried captain Corry admitted: "We're not in a position to point a finger, given the way we played." And he's right.
From Ben Cohen's awful dropped pass right on the Scottish try line to Hodgson's awful, nervy final kick-off which went out on the full, England got it wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
And with France away up next on March 12 followed by a the concluding Irish visit to Twickenham on March 18, Andy Robinson's men have gone from Grand Slam favourites to Championship outsiders.
Mike Ruddock-less Wales, crushed 31-5 in Ireland, could yet win it with Italy away and France in Cardiff to come.
But neither English nor Welsh fans should put their shirts on a happy ending to what has been a tremendous, completely unpredictable Six Nations.
At the start of the tournament, I wrote Scotland and Italy off completely. I was only half right. Then I said props Julian White and Andrew Sheridan would destroy the Scottish scrum. They did, but it didn't matter.
We can blame tactics for England's demise, we can point to the nerve of Cohen and Hodgson at key moments. We could put Dallaglio back in the captain's armband. We could even blame referee Lewis.
But the great sporting truth is this: Scotland at Murrayfield need to be taken as a major, world-class threat, every year, no matter how the bookmakers see it.
Will England never learn that lesson? Should we have played the Jonny Wilkinson kick-them-to-death game that won us the World Cup rather than the 'sexy' game we've never mastered? "I think you've just about nailed it," was coach Robinson's abject conclusion.
