Summer-lovin’- self-pity- reluctant acceptance- minefield- Oh I say!- there’s always one- a knife scraping on a plate- as bad as Murray’s maw- Doctor, Doctor, I’ve got tennis elbow- non-rugby conversion- love fifteen – mega bucks
In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love, in the summer it turns to tennis. Without bumping my gums too much, if I had a bigger serve you’d never have heard of Jamie Murray. Failing to make it at the highest level hasn’t bothered me and my life took on a new career track.
The last few days I’ve played at the local council pitches with their distinctive undulating surfaces. Every bounce is different but eventually I got to read the recoils and dips that were struck at me from the other side of the net.
I was having a great time apart from one annoying player on the next court who babbled throughout. His grating voice went on and on and it was some time before I realised he was coaching a young woman. I had never seen the “would-be coach” before and wondered what his credentials/tournament victories were. Watching his play I reasoned I’d beat him in a match-up; I was better than the coach. This is like being healthier than your doctor. I was hit with one of those Paul Damascus moments although while I was thinking of my great plan I lost the point I was playing.
Does anyone know what plan I have?
Boadicea's Chariot 
No, JR, but I just knew you were a sportsman. 🙂
PS, healthier than the doctor? I have left the surgery on a couple of occasions being grateful for my relatively good health.
Sue-Ellen to JR. “Joan of Arc would have been a drunk if she was married to you!”
Come on, how good was Dallas?
Hi Janus, someone once asked me “Do you play Real Tennis?”. I said “Of course, I mean what else do you call it?”
but can you still tip a glass? if so not all bad.
I get tennis elbow from time to time and I never play tennis.