It’s a rare day in the social calendar that includes two such a special occasions; one for the happy young couple of the moment and the other a major sporting rivalry unfolding.
But 19 May 2018 will go down in history as just such a day.
No, I’m not talking about the Heghan nuptials – more than enough has already been written and spoken about that for a lifetime. I’m talking about Escamillo Escapillo and Lavender having diner at Il Baretto with me and Daisy…
…and of course I’m not talking about the FA Cup final between Chelsea and Manchester United – surely that is only of limited interest to most people. No, I am talking about the intense rivalry between me and Daisy on the modern tennis court. A battle at which Daisy had, in recent months, seemed to have found an upper hand, but just these last couple of weeks I seem to have found my mojo again. Some extra gears, decisive play and a brutal finish – believe me you had to be there truly to sense the sheer thrill of it all.
Anyway, to Il Baretto. Most unusually, we all arrived a few minutes ahead of the appointed hour. Central London seemed surprisingly easy to navigate that evening – word was that there was congestion to the South West (out Windsor way) and the North West (Wembley direction) for some reasons.
The happy young couple of the moment
Escamillo Escapillo looks especially happy in the above picture, as he has received a birthday present in the form of the documents you can see by his elbow – tickets to Middlesex v The Australians – which will be the next outing for the four of us.
The food and wine at Il Baretto is consistently good. Janie and I shared some calamari and fried zucchini to start, while the youngsters had some very tasty-looking bruschetta. For mains, Lavender had risotto, Daisy had tuna steak, Escamillo Escapillo had sirloin steak and I had grilled sea bream.
We sort-of went our own way with wine – Daisy and I persevering with Riesling while Escamillo Escapillo switched to Pinot Nero. The wine waiter was a bit farcical – he told me that he had to replace the Riesling we had chosen with an alternative, which he promised was “better” and did taste absolutely fine, but he refused to show us what we were drinking. Then when Escamillo and I did the recommended wine match with deserts, he seemed unable to work out which wine should go with which desert…he even had two goes at it. Minor stuff – more amusing than irritating.
I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’ve been drinkingA very convivial evening
Janie chose a desert named “When Harry Met Meghan” which comprised a fruity, tasty-looking small tart and a long cocktail. Very apt.
Daisy indulging in her “When Harry…” It is an optical illusion making my cup of tiramisu look three times the size of Daisy’s pud
What else can I say? We all had a great time and went our separate ways at a respectable hour – Daisy and I needed to prepare to do battle on the tennis court again first thing Sunday. (Same result, seeing as how you’ve asked. Thank you, Mr Netchord, for the final point.)
An unusual week to say the least. A short one, as the Monday was a bank holiday. The bank holiday weekend weather had been glorious – Janie and I had spent most of the weekend enjoying the benefits of the garden in good weather.
On the Tuesday (8 May) I was asked to join the senior doubles at lunchtime, while I had my regular court booked at 18:00. It was a beautiful day and I was busy writing my pamphlet on Bullshit jobs, so thought that a few hours writing long-hand would do the piece and my posture no harm. I was right.
On the Wednesday morning I went to collect my Estonian e-Residency card, so i am now officially an e-Resident of the Republic of Estonia. Once I had finished my heavy writing sessions, I looked at some Arvo Pärt music in the evening to celebrate my new status.
On Thursday I had a rather frustrating music lesson as my machine kept playing up – in fact all of my machines seemed to be on go slow for some reason. Then Janie and I went to the Pear Tree for dinner with Toni, John and Tom Friend, plus Deni & Tony. Excellent food and an interesting evening.
…before I went on to Lord’s, playing a good game of tennis at 10:00 and then sticking around for the cricket. Janie joined me for most of the final session of the day, before we both went to the Middlesex kit sponsors party, which was fun. Always a nice bunch of people there.
Not only all that, but I got a lot of work done that week too. No wonder I was well-tired by the end of it.
Once again I found myself selected to represent the MCC against Middlesex University Real Tennis Club; a match scheduled for 28 April. But that was not to be my only Middlesex v MCC experience that week.
Tuesday 24 April – Middlesex v MCC
On the Tuesday, 24 April, there was an historic cricket match between Middlesex CCC Women and MCC Women at Lord’s. As it happens, largely by coincidence, I had arranged to play tennis at Lord’s that afternoon. So I rose early to get my work out of the way, taking the afternoon out to watch a couple of hours of cricket and do some leisure reading before playing tennis.
I commuted to Lord’s by public transport and found myself in a swirl of schoolkids and teachers on the Wellington Road – some arriving at the ground for the match and some leaving (there had been another exhibition match in the morning).
Do not be deceived by the empty stands in the photograph below, which I took from pride of place in the Warner Stand. The Grandstand was ram-packed with youngsters watching the game. As I understand it, 5,000 to 6,000 people attended the day, making it the largest ever crowd for a domestic women’s cricket match.
In truth the quality of the cricket was less than special. It reminded me a bit of Janie’s and my first experience of Women’s test cricket, at Shenley in 2003, in cricket quality terms. So there is room for improvement but also proof positive that improvement can come quickly – by 2009 when Janie and I attended the Women’s T20 World Cup final at Lord’s…
From my vantage point at the front of the Warner Stand, I did need to keep an eye on each ball in case it came sailing my way, but equally was able to do some reading too. I was re-reading chunks of “What To Listen For In Music” by Aaron Copeland, with a view to helping my nascent instrument-playing, not least in the matter of transcription, adaptation and shifting modes/keys.
But I was interrupted quite early in my reading by a young woman with a strong Scouse accent who had never been to a cricket match before and wondered whether I could explain “the rules” to her. She in particular wanted to understand wickets.
Unfortunately Middlesex Women at that time seemed signally incapable of taking any wickets – not even the relatively frequent potential catches that were being offered, to help me demonstrate the ideas.
Nevertheless, my pupil seemed to get the idea of catches and clean bowled wickets quite easily. Stumped and run out seemed a little further from her experience, so we both struggled a bit when I tried to explain those. I then paused momentarily to try to work out how (or even whether) to explain LBW, when the young lady told me she needed to meet a friend, thanked me profusely and took her leave of me. I was a little relieved to be honest…as was she, I suspect, as I spotted her at the end of the innings sitting on her own at the front, a few blocks away from where she had collared me. Perhaps she was now explaining “the rules” to an “imaginary friend”. Nevertheless, she waved at me as if greeting a long-time pal.
It was well cold that day. I watched and read from the comfort of the pavilion for a while, before changing and playing two hours of tennis; an hour of singles which went very well and then an hour of doubles, to help me get my head into the doubles side of things for my impending match. After I played, I tried without success to find out the result of the women’s cricket match – both the MCC and Middlesex websites put up photos straight away but not the result.
Friday 27 April – Warm-Up Practice Doubles Ahead Of Middlesex v MCC
When I realised that, by chance, my Friday singles match was to be against one of my MCC team-mates, David Mitchell-Innes, I mentioned this fact in bant form in response to one of the organising e-mails from Carl Snitcher, the team captain and my doubles partner for Saturday’s match:
I hope you are training hard for our role in this fixture. Mr Mitchell-Innes and I are due to do battle towards the cause on Friday…
…so you’ll either have two perfectly honed team members or a last minute need for two substitutes.
This kicked off a flurry of e-mails, initiated by Nick Hewitt (David’s doubles partner), that resulted, instead, in the four of us having a practice session together.
This sounded like a brilliant idea; an opportunity to have four perfectly honed team members. Except of course, when the competitive instinct kicked in, we soon realised that there was the risk we’d end up with a last minute need for four substitutes.
Carl bowed out a little early (it had been kind of him to stay on to join us at all) so when the practice match reached its inevitable denouement at one-set-all, five-games-all, forty-all…
…and I somehow, single-handedly managed to prevail…
…naturally emotions were running high. I don’t have a film clip of real tennis concluding in such a competitive spirit, but I have found a similar-looking example from women’s ice hockey:
Being Friday morning, fortunately, both Mark Ryan and Chris Swallow were on hand to help all of us to leave the court with our dignity intact and mop up ahead of the senior gentlemen, who were next on court.
In retrospect, I think this style of preparation worked better for Messrs Mitchell-Innes and Hewitt than it did for Messrs Harris and Snitcher.
Saturday 28 April – Middlesex University Real Tennis Club (MURTC) v MCC
So to the big day. Janie had kindly agreed to join us for the afternoon and help us to eat what I predicted to be, based on my previous experience of this fixture,…
…a sumptuous lunch provided by David Sloan. I was right about the lunch.
Janie and I attempted to play modern tennis first thing, but the weather was unexpectedly shocking at 8:40 when we arrived on court and we gave up, drenched, at 9:00.
We got to Hendon while the first rubber was in full sway; a close-run affair which MURTC took by a hair’s breadth. Heartbreaking, it was. Almost enough to put one off one’s food. “ALMOST” I said.
So while the next rubber was in full sway, most of us took advantage of the delectable spread. The highlight was a superb joint of roast beef, but there was also smoked salmon, a fine selection of cheeses, plus bread, potatoes and salad.
We socialised. We ate. We got to meet John and Catherine’s delightful cocker spaniels. We watched Messrs Mitchell-Innes and Hewitt take full advantage of their practice session from the previous day to level the match 1-1.
At that stage of the afternoon, Carl seemed less concerned about the impending battle with MURTC and more concerned about doing battle with his internet service provider, who had simultaneously threatened to cut off his services unless he paid his account, while seemingly making it impossible for Carl to pay. At roughly the same time, David and Will did battle with a computer, a large television set and a TV subscription website, to enable us to see the final chapter of the 2018 World Singles Championship.
Next up for MCC was Sebastian Wood and Chris Stanton, the latter I have, coincidentally, known for over quarter of a century from my time writing for NewsRevue – he was the first professional actor ever to perform one of my lyrics:
No comedy involved in the fierce contest of this tennis match, though. But by the time that third rubber was concluded, MURTC were leading the fixture 2-1 and most of the crowd was watching the telly rather than watching the live tennis.
Naturally Janie (Daisy) took pride of place in the dedans gallery, along with a few others, to watch me and Carl Snitcher do battle with a pair of mighty gladiators from MURTC. Even more naturally (to anyone who has seen Daisy play modern tennis) she was cheering and applauding points won from false shots, dodgy bounces and net chords as vociferously as good shots.
In short, it is probably just as well that most of our MCC team-mates were watching the telly during that final rubber. It was all over rather quickly, MURTC winning the match 3-1, at which point those of us still on court mixed it up and played for fun for a good few minutes longer.
After that, we all decompressed and enjoyed some social minutes while watching the very end of the 2018 World Singles Championships on the TV.
Sadly, I don’t have any film clips of this year’s MURTC v MCC match, nor of the 2018 world championships that people were watching on the TV. I do have a couple of similar clips, but they have got all mixed up and I really cannot tell which is which – I’ll have to leave it to the viewer to judge:
Anyway, the match was a great success, both as a sporting and as a social occasion. With thanks not least to David Sloan for organising the fixture and food, Will/MURTC for hosting and making the match run…and of course to Carl for trying to organise the MCC team – a task that might be described as, “like trying to herd cats”.
For many years I have claimed that there are only two places left on the planet where people still refer to me as “young man”; Lord’s and The Wigmore Hall. I must admit, though, it’s been a while since anyone has addressed me as such in either of those places.
As it happens, ahead of this Gresham Society event, I spent the early part of the afternoon at Lord’s, playing real tennis, as has been my wont since the spring of 2016. Real tennis is a fiendishly difficult game to play. The professionals point out that the 150-200 court hours I have put in so far leave me “barely out of nappies” in real tennis terms. Presumably I will go through a “young man” phase eventually before becoming a senior player.
We have several senior gentlemen who continue to play into their late 80s and even into their 90s.
Sadly, the video from that bout did not get saved – my opponent that day quite possibly asked for all evidence to be destroyed and frankly, given the circumstances, I don’t blame him.
After tennis, a relatively quick visit to the Z/Yen offices to sort out one or two work things before setting off, with Michael Mainelli, to the London Capital Club.
I think Michael was hoping that we’d be about five minutes late, thus missing most of the AGM, which Tim Connell had promised to keep to seven minutes.
In truth, we arrived just as the formalities were starting, so were able to appreciate all 12 minutes of the promised seven minute AGM.
Then some pleasant chat with several friends before descending to the dining area.
There was no seating plan, but I was lucky to sit with the Ayliffes to the right of me and Margaret Hodson to the left. Discussions with the Ayliffes mostly revolved around the political mess our nation (and indeed much of the western world) seems to me making of itself.
I knew about the musical side to the Hodson family, but was unaware of the horsey side, until that evening. The work that Margaret Hodson does with horse riding for disabled people is truly remarkable – click here for an independent view on it about 10 years ago.
The food was pretty good. A chicken salad round thing which was very well presented and tasty. The toast was quite hard – so much so that Margaret Hodson (and several others at our table) gave up on it. When she saw me persevering, Margaret gave a running commentary on my efforts, which could easily have been horse trials commentary, including the slightly disapproving/disappointed voice when one piece of the toast went flying towards the floor – no doubt a four-point penalty.
Then a slow-cooked lamb shank dish – a good idea for a large function and a very full-flavoured. The dessert was a crème brûlée.
Afters at Gresham Society – no waffle hereGyles Brandreth gave an excellent address to the Society. Clearly he was well briefed, so after an amusing potted history of the ups and downs of his career, he spoke highly of the Gresham Society. Gyles placed emphasis on the fact that we are the Friends of Gresham College, waxing lyrical about the benefits of societies that are genuinely friendly.
I totally agree. The Gresham Society is, above all, a very friendly bunch of people. We have a shared pleasure in and purpose through Gresham College, but it is above all a friendly group. For sure that is why I like to attend whenever I can…
…even if Basil teases me almost every time about my aversion to filling in forms and Tim Connell tries to find increasingly convoluted ways to avoid having me play my baroq-ulele…
…but I digress.
Towards the end of his talk, Gyles Brandreth mentioned younger members of the Gresham Society and I thought he might have glanced at me as he said it.
There was a little time left after the address for some more chat with friends before I realised that it really was time for me to head home.
As I was leaving, when I went up to Gyles to congratulate him on his talk and say goodbye, he told me that he was looking at me when he mentioned the younger members. I told him that I thought my days of being addressed as “young man” at Lord’s and The Wigmore Hall were behind me, but perhaps the Gresham Society, now a third outlet for what remains of my perceived youth, will revive my fortunes in that department.
About a month earlier, Mr Thirlwell and I entered the Lord’s dedans a few minutes before our scheduled gladiatorial hour, quite by chance to encounter Messrs Snitcher and Leigh planning the teams for the MCC v The Dedanists’ Society.
“Would either of you gentlemen possibly be available to represent the club on 10 February?” we were asked.
Both of us replied that we would check our heaving social calendars, but, each of us coincidentally suspected that the afternoon of 10 February might just be a tiny window of opportunity for the club to co-opt our services.
Mr Thirlwell relaxing in the dedans gallery after doing battle – with thanks to Janie for all of the photos and the videos
An hour later, as Mr Thirlwell and I were dragged off the court kicking, biting, punching and yelling at each other…
…as usual…
…yet another draw for the real tennis on-line score book…
…Messrs Snitcher and Leigh looked at each other and exclaimed in unison, “yes indeed, these two will be ideal canon fodder for our friendly match with The Dedanists’ Society.”
So Janie needed only a little persuasion to join us on 10 February for lunch and to watch her boy (me) in action. By then we knew that I was scheduled to partner Mr Snitcher himself, for the first time in a match since my very first attempt at a doubles match some 18 months previously – click here or below for that tale of derring-do:
Janie and I planned, on the morning of 10 February, to play an hour of modern tennis before heading to Lord’s for lunch. But as there was still frost on the cars when we planned to set off to play, we postponed that fixture. All dressed up with no place to go for physical preparation, I resorted instead to psychological methods:
Preparing spiritually for the big match against the Dedanists
Janie and I arrived in good time for lunch; getting to see the end of the second rubber and chat with a few people before the all important business of chowing down.
The grub was good. The centrepiece was a very tasty chilli-con-carne with rice and vegetables, supplemented with some tasty nibbles, a brightly-coloured soup (carrot and tomato I should imagine) and an elegant cheese platter. Washed down with plentiful wine for those who had already done battle and a thimble-full of wine for a combatant-to-be, like me.
In truth, this particular fixture must be one of the friendliest matches in the whole of the global real tennis calendar. Most MCC members who play in the fixture are also members of The Dedanists’ Society. Most of the players on the day were members of both clubs; so much so that, at times, during play, we were struggling to work out which team was which.
Mark (the nominative deterministic gentleman who marks the matches), Mr Snitcher and yours-truly – let the battle commence
Soon enough it was our chance to play. The last rubber of the match – surely the highlight of the fixture. So much so that some of the people who had done battle earlier in the day simply couldn’t take the tension and left Lord’s before the game. Still, a good dozen or so people remained, hardly any of whom were having an afternoon snooze.
Mr Snitcher and I had spent many seconds preparing our tactics for the match. We agreed that I would do most of the running, so I should not expect to hear the call “yours”, I should only expect to hear the shout “mine”, at which point I should leave the ball.
Here’s an example:
Somehow it seemed to work out…
…as did my serve on the day; most but not all of the time:
…even my volley worked a bit better than usual…
…as one kind gentleman pointed out to Janie, I was in the zone…
…which is a polite way of saying that I was not really keeping track of the score, much as some people struggle to walk and chew gum at the same time.
Tony and Mr Devlin watched with rapt attention – it was that sort of match
Even Tony seemed full of glee at the end of the match. He told me and Mr Snitcher that we had excelled ourselves on court. He also said that we should be delighted with the progress we are making…
…at least I think that’s what Tony said. To be honest I wasn’t listening; apparently none of us ever do.
Joking apart, all the participants had spent a thoroughly enjoyable day at Lord’s and raised a few bob for The Dedanists’ Society in the process.
I think my key moment was at c10:36 (about 30 minutes in) when I made the topical West London analogy of the slightly leaky pipe c/w the major burst water main. Much of West London had been without water pretty much all day on the day before the hearing – which I found rather nerve-wracking while I prepared, but it did lend me a useful analogy.
I did say some other stuff too, so it is certainly worth getting a bucket of popcorn and hunkering down for an hour of viewing.
16 months deeper into my real tennis career (and into Brexit of course), I kept thinking during the hearing that the name “Lord Aberdare” was familiar to me in a tennis context…then wondered whether I was getting confused.
When I got to Lord’s later, I saw that, as I had half remembered, the name “Lord Aberdare” was all over the real tennis Gold and Silver Racket honours board.
It transpires that our man, the current (fifth) Baron Aberdare‘s, grandfather, who was the third Baron Aberdare – click here or picture below for bio – had a twenty-or-so year cricket playing career for Middlesex County Cricket Club before and after the First World War and also went on to dominate amateur real tennis between the wars; probably one of the greatest amateur real tennis players ever.
by Walter Stoneman, bromide print, 1930. From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:The_3rd_Baron_Aberdare_in_1930.jpg#file – see there for full details of non-free use rationale, which also applies to my use.
You’d have thought that this wonderful coincidence would have inspired me to a great victory on the tennis court that evening…but you’d be wrong. The 3rd Baron would not have been impressed by my performance on the court…
…I wonder what he would have made of Brexit and or my performance before the Peers? Would he have yelled “better than half a yard” or “hazard the door” to mark the end of my pivotal speech?
Brexit, Middlesex cricket and real tennis…the story of a fair chunk of my life at the moment, I suppose.
…on the last two playing days of the 2017 year that role went into overdrive. I had booked to play at 11:00 on Friday 22nd, which was doubles – not what I would normally book but I think it was the only available slot on that last day of 2017 when I booked it.
In the end, though, I was asked if I could fill in at 16:00 on Thursday, then if I could play doubles for 90 minutes before that Thursday singles, then if I could stay on for an hour of “senior” doubles after my Friday booking, which had been switched from doubles back to singles.
In short, it isn’t just my clients who book up too much to do in the run up to Christmas and then cancel at the last minute. The real tennis community are masters at it.
Also, in short, that meant four-and-a-half hours of real tennis in 24 hours. That was a bit mad of me. But strangely it all went OK. In fact I improved my singles handicap by a good few notches during that 24 hours.
The 150 minute marathon on Thursday was a very exhausting idea, especially as the doubles as well as the singles was high grade, above my handicap stuff.
Kristof is a very interesting chap of Hungarian origin who is a fund manager by profession, yet reads books and had even read The Price Of Fish since we last met.
When he arrived at the Ladbroke Arms, Kristof immediately apologised for his appearance. He was wearing a leather jacket, jeans and a dark-coloured beanie hat. Kristof explained that he was going to a punk party after our drink. I explained that his appearance was not entirely dissimilar to mine, which I consider to be normal attire for meeting a friend in a local pub. Here is a reconstruction of the look, taken by Daisy a couple of days later in Victoria:
Me, outside the Albert in Victoria a couple of days later, modelling “that” look
We talked about life, the universe and just about everything. Topics (beyond The Price Of Fish) ranged from Brexit to the writings of George Mikes to our life stories & therefore (naturally) Ogblog.
But, sadly, Kristof and I failed to solve the world’s most wicked problems over a couple of small glasses of wine before Kristof went off in his “costume”. Must have been that extra 90 minutes or so of real tennis doubles that dulled my thinking that evening. Hopefully we’ll try again some time soon.
Back to Lord’s the next morning for a couple of hours more tennis. Bizarrely, the MCC now live streams and saves the games some days, so if you want a quick (or slow) butchers hook at this stuff, here is the stream of my Friday marathon – just the two hours from c2:02 (warming up for singles) until c4:05. The “senior doubles” after our hour of singles (we both stayed on) is with gentlemen who are both just over or approaching 90 years of age.
Unfortunately, the sound stream wasn’t working that day. so you can’t hear all the moaning and groaning – mostly from my opponents, naturally:
https://youtu.be/Ic1gLQyMVJQ?t=7301
As for reflections on my 2017 progress; numerically it all looks and feels a bit strange. I got my handicap down to 60.9 by June, then it flew back up again for three months and then I whittled it back down to that 60.9 figure by the end of the year.
Apparently this pendulum thing happens; partly natural volatility, partly (I suspect) a bit of a seasonal effect but mostly because performance actually does plateau or even go backwards while you try to progress to playing “proper” shots rather than simply getting the ball back.
More importantly, I’d had lots of fun and continue to really enjoy my real tennis. Ogblog highlights of the year include the following, the first two of which have some very short video clips with sound. If you persevere you’ll encounter some real stars, including Rob Fahey (real tennis’s equivalent of Rod Laver) and even Paul McCartney:
I am now in the 53rd percentile of all players worldwide who have ever been logged on the system (over 10,800 of them). More realistically, I am now in the 67th percentile of those who play regularly. That makes me about one standard deviation from the norm. Let’s hope no-one latches on to “Standard Deviation” as my nickname. I think I’d sooner be the Galloping Bard or the Flying Ferret.
Janie (Daisy) and I normally play (modern) tennis every Saturday and Sunday morning, so my response to requests to fill in for late cancellations on the real tennis court at the weekends normally contains the answer “no”.
The Galloping Bard And The Mighty Snitch Take On the Boomerang Boys
But I had noticed that the weather was set utterly foul for Sunday, so when Chris Swallow asked me on Friday if I could possibly do a couple of hours doubles to help the MCC Team prepare for the Boomerang Cup in Melbourne – click here to learn about that premier international sporting event, I thought Janie probably would sooner watch me play “realers” in a good cause than watch the rain wash out any hope of us playing “lawners”. I asked; Janie said yes.
Actually the weather forecast was wrong. It didn’t rain.
It snowed. Noddyland looked resplendent as we set off for Lord’s.
Snow Time In Noddyland
We allowed plenty of time to get to Lord’s in the snow, but actually the roads were empty yet perfectly passable so we got there in a record 20 minutes from Noddyland.
The wise doctor, Doctor Wyse, who was to be the third of the Boomerang Cup team in practice on the day, was not so lucky with the weather and phoned in snowed in. Iain Harvey and Oliver Wise were the two Boomerang Team stalwarts there for some match practice ahead of the antipodean batttle.
Carl Snitcher very kindly stayed on for a valiant extra 70-80 minutes after his hour of singles, to help make up the four.
Initially I partnered Iain against Oliver and Carl. Iain took pains to point out at one stage that he was bringing an extra “I” to our partnership…while I was bemoaning the fact that I hadn’t been using both of my eyes to watch the ball enough.
After one Boomerang set in the above permutation, Oliver and Iain felt that they should get used to partnering each other, so I then partnered The Mighty Snitch for a while (see above photo).
Once Carl had to leave, Chris Swallow took over as my partner for just under an hour, immediately bringing better performance out of me through some form of coachy-osmosis or something.
The Boomerang Cup has slightly different rules. Boomerang sets are “first to eight” (best of 15 games) rather than the regular “first to six” real tennis sets. Games are decided on “one point” at 40-40, even when there is no handicap to play. Also, if the receivers are three or more games behind, they can do a switch during the set (just the once) to try catch up by each facing the alternative opposing server. (In regular rules, the receiving pair decides who will receive against whom at the start of each set).
Janie (Daisy) enjoyed Rose Harvey’s company while watching and while taking some photos and vids. Three short clips below – the first is me serving and playing well:
…the second is what happens when that serve, the demi-piquet, goes slightly awry against a good player…
…the third shows me playing quite well again – this time from the grille side of the hazard end (I’m not making these names up as I go along, honest):
Believe it or not, the whole darned thing is streamed these days, albeit silently, so you can watch the lot if you wish, by clicking the embedded link below. We start at 2:04:45 and only play for a couple of hours – it is riveting viewing:
It is terrific experience for me to play doubles with better players like this; somehow I manage to lift my performance (at least a bit) when I play in these circumstances, which must be good for my game. In any case, it was a great fun morning of tennis.
Janie, tiring of hearing all about my new yet ancient hobbies of baroq-ulele and real tennis playing, has decided to take up a new hobby of her own; pole dancing.
Today was her fourth lesson. As we had arranged a day off, I thought I would have a relatively light day of exercise, taking advantage of the studio where Janie was having her lesson to do half an hour of stretches and abs before hunkering down for an hour with my Economist.
This photo was taken at the end of Janie’s second lesson
I kept up with Janie and her teacher, Lana, for the first couple of minutes of stretching, before they went off into the stratosphere of stretching and I reverted to the gentle, safe stuff I do regularly in the gym.
I was still doing my clams when Janie and Lana started working through some pole routines.
This picture was taken at the end of Janie’s third lesson
I was about five minutes into my Economist reading when my phone rang. Chris from Lord’s. Could I possibly help out and cover for a last minute drop out at 17:00 today.
I realised that I could, instead of reading the Economist and watching Janie up a pole, trundle over to the flat and pick up some kit, enabling me to help Chris out.
So I did, missing out on Janie’s further improvement in lesson four:
Janie towards the end of lesson four
Lana assured me that Janie is a natural at this sport and I must say that her progress in such a short time looks quite remarkable to my untrained eyes…
…which is more than can be said for my slow but relentless progress at real tennis.
I did have time to drop Janie at home after her lesson but she said she’d like to watch me play, as she hasn’t seen it for a good few months.
Action shot
I asked Janie to put some energy into putting my opponent off while she watched, but she signally failed to do that.
Janie did take a few pictures, though, plus a couple of short vids, one of which, remarkably, shows me landing a chase of half-a-yard on the return…
…which is a pretty good shot. I’d like to assert that I land half yard chases with some regularity, but that wouldn’t be true. Still, please invest 8 seconds in the vid below and you’ll see how it’s done:
We’d both had fun and we’d both enjoyed following each other’s hobbies. That’s a good day off.
I was delighted to be selected to represent the MCC again against Middlesex University Real Tennis Club. This was to be my third go in that fixture – click here to read about the previous go.
So I thought it was to be comedy doubles. Ideally with me writing the script and Chris doing all the work.
John Random, who directed that 1992 show, on learning that Chris and I had been reunited through this strange game, had expressed a desire to see real tennis. So I had the idea to invite John to watch Chris and me play in this match.
Initially John said yes to that idea, but the weekend before the match, he was selected for a Compare The Meerkat advert and had to pull out of the Lord’s tennis spectating role. It transpires that John has previous in the matter of phoney slavic accents and extremely dodgy fur:
Win a one-way ticket to the Gulag if you even think about markets-dot-com
In the end John’s inability to show up at Lord’s was probably just as well. For a start, that Trotsky beard would not have gone down well at The Grace Gate. Further, in any case, Chris Stanton was also a no show on the day – surely not another one summoned to perform with an anthropomorphic gang from the mongoose family?
So, captain my captain Josh Farrall partnered me in the first match. Sadly there are no photos from this match, but there is a stock photo of me playing in a previous match – that isn’t Josh watching me hit the ball all wrong.
A perfect shot of an ever so slightly imperfect shot – photo by Sidney Yankson
Exhausted by our endeavours, I nevertheless volunteered to relieve our captain from multiple duties by taking his slot in the later match he was scheduled to play.
This gave me the chance to partner Nick Evans, who is even more of a novice than me and against whom I was scheduled to play singles the next day, against a delightful Middlesex couple (including the MURTC team captain) who are also more novice than me, although not by much.
It was a superb success as a social evening, with the traditional Lord’s curry going down a treat, washed down with some very jolly wines.
“What was the score?”, I hear the more competitive readers cry. Come on now, I’ve told you before, what happens on the MCC tennis court stays on the MCC tennis court.
I’ll just provide one picture-based clue:
Pears-Pairs-Bagels
Real tennis was the winner, along with conviviality.
