My first comment on Danny Cipriani is that he is showing the kind of authority it took me a long, long time to gain. When I was first in the England camp with him, before the World Cup last year, and then again during the Six Nations this year, he displayed a very strong understanding of how he sees the game and what he wanted to do. He was very self-assured.

People were not thinking, as I'm sure they were with me in my early days: “This guy's just a kid.” Instead, the reaction was more: “This guy means business.”

That was one thought that came to mind as I sat at home, leg up, watching England's defeat by Australia on Saturday. I know that there is a perception that Danny might not have had the greatest of games at Twickenham, but I had immediate empathy with pretty much every decision he made. The fact that some of them didn't come off is not important, they were still the right decisions.

Likewise, I don't think it matters that a couple of kicks didn't go over because I know the next day they will go straight through the middle. The important fact is that he is playing with a confidence to take things on, to exploit gaps with pace, and these are great qualities.

The question being asked is how does he move on from here? Now, I would never see myself as some all-knowing father figure because it is not my way to suggest that I have been there and made it myself. I don't think I have, anyway.

Furthermore, there is no prescription for success as an international No10. There is no set way, no particular path down which we attempt to find our way. And there is certainly no certificate that comes through your door to tell you you've made it.

Rugby, for me, is a bastardisation of life: there is no big answer. If there was, then everyone would have it. In life, everyone would be as wealthy as they wanted and in rugby there would be thousands of international-class fly halves all playing exactly the same way.

The only comparison I can make is by explaining how it was for me as a new international No10. When I started, I was consumed by my own game, working out what was right, what was good, and though this was driven by a desire not to let the guys around me down - don't forget that I was surrounded by the Guscotts, Dallaglios, the Rodbers, the Johnsons, very privileged company - my development process involved learning to focus less on me and more on the outcome for the team.

I'd also take instructions very matter of factly. If we were presented with a game plan, I was black and white about it and I'd feel I had to put these ideas into action. I didn't understand about manipulating the game plan according to the circumstances in front of me, or even breaking from the plan completely.

I think back, in particular, to the Centenary Test in Sydney in 1999, my eighth cap (though they had not all been at No10), when we had both a first-half lead and the momentum. What we needed was to build, maintain the pressure, make Australia feel they had to chase the game. I didn't do anything blatantly wrong, but I didn't exert any authority. I didn't direct the team to victory. I didn't have the gut instinct to change things when they weren't working and there was no ruthlessness. We lost 22-15.

What I can assure you is that, in this respect, after five caps, Cipriani is farther down the line than I was. As I said earlier, he has a very strong understanding of how he sees the game and where he wants it to go. He also appears to understand his role as director of the team and he does not see instructions in black and white the way I did.

So it would be ignorant of me to issue instructions: where to kick, where to pass - the guy knows all that.

There is no prescribed learning pattern. The key to improvement for each of us is learning from experience, or for Danny, learning from last Saturday. The best players are those who react to their experiences very quickly. That is a real quality in this game and I can assure you that Danny has that, too.