Playing Tennis

I think the highlight of my brief sojourn was the late addition to our usual annual routine, a surprisingly competitive game of tennis in East Sheen Park.

Lack of fitness, ill-fitting training shoes, rustiness, an inability to serve, and a backhand somewhat akin to Anne throwing a cricket ball, all couldn't disguise the fact that there's a really very mediocre tennis player half-digested inside me barking out orders that my body can't follow...

My eye was also taken off the ball when I was serving from the end where you could see the yummy mummies doing combat training. They of course were being similarly distracted by my top-spin lacking lobs, and sheer athletic magnetism...


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