The curry had to wait while I doled out a vast number of “valuable” prizes– with thanks to Tony Friend and Chris Bray for the pictures.
Putting me in charge of the real tennis skills night is a bit like putting Boris Johnson in charge of an honesty bar, or Suella Braverman in charge of a kindness campaign.
Anyway, the powers that be have deemed me suited to the task, perhaps in a bid to keep me and my tenuous relationship with tennis skills away from attempting the actual skill trials themselves. In truth I very much enjoy hosting the event.
It has become a twice-yearly thing now – once in the spring and once in the autumn, which makes sense.
Brian Sharp presents the Mason Sharp Trophy To The A/B Category Winners at the end of the MCC weekend.
I played plenty of real tennis (and lawn come to that) in January, building up to the MCC Club Weekend, the last weekend of January, an event that I had either steered away from or had cruelly steered away from me until this year. I’m hooked on the idea of playing in it now, though – it was great fun.
The Queen’s Club v The Dedanist’s Society At Queen’s, 3 February 2023
I have previously described the oddities of Dedanist’s Society matches, with many players being eligible for both teams and often not knowing who they are going to play for until the last minute.
But I broke yet more new ground in February 2023 in my role in the Queen’s Club match, “batting for the other side”, because I have, in theory, no right whatsoever to represent Queen’s.
…but I am not a member of Queen’s and not in truth eligible to represent. Further, there were several people listed who were members of both Queen’s and The Dedanist’s. But the timings and handicaps meant that it made sense for me (and one or two other people) to swap sides for this friendliest of friendly fixtures.
I partnered a really pleasant fellow in the first fixture of the day and we did well. I think we set the ball rolling for a Queen’s Club win, but it was hard to tell as we all kept having to look at the schedule to work out which pair was playing for which team.
I think it is fair to say that it REALLY didn’t matter. Nick Browne organised a really enjoyable afternoon and evening – the event was rounded off with a fine meal in the President’s Room – which, as usual, raised money for the Dedanist’s Society’s good causes as well as providing a really good time for us players/attendees.
Chris Rowe & Ian Harris At Lord’s, Photo by Nat Cherry
A plethora of real tennis at Lord’s in early November:
skills night, which I now “match manage”;
a match between the MCC and Middlesex University Real Tennis Club (MURTC), which I somehow found myself captaining/match managing for the MCC;
a long-in-the-planning “friendly” with fellow NewsRevue alum Chris Rowe.
Skills Night, 2 November 2022
I explained how I “inherited” responsibility for skills night from Johnny Whiting in my review of last year’s event, click here or below:
This year’s event was no less exceptional, with fun and fabulous prizes on offer, ranging from a half-exploded can of Irn Brew (don’t ask) to a most valuable player award of $500,000,000. The winners got proper bottles of Pol Roger (other fizzy drinks are available) and chocolates. The wooden spoon has now been emblazoned in the form of the coveted Hinds Trophy.
Those who know me well from school etc. know that I am unaccustomed to being a sports team captain. I was more likely to be the chap waving his hand wildly at the captain saying, “me, me, me” in the hope of being spotted and picked. But Carl Snitcher, the MCC captain for this match, needed to be elsewhere and I got the call about 10 days before the match to step in and “lead”.
Leadership in this instance merely comprised turning up, badgering people into paying their match fees and shouting “come on MCC” at regular intervals during the match.
It was also still my role to play in the fourth rubber of this five rubber match, renewing my partnership with John Thirlwell, whom I hadn’t partnered since before the pandemic.
John and I tried to get back into practice together by playing singles against each other the week before (a superb, close bout) and a practice doubles as a pair the day before the MURTC fixture. But all that was to no avail in the matter of winning our rubber on the big night. Still, we made a close match of it and the fixture as a whole was won by the MCC, albeit by the narrowest of margins in the final rubber, to take the match 3-2.
Those interested enough can watch the entire match – all six hours of it – on the MCC Real Tennis YouTube channel through the link below. Compelling is not the word for this viewing.
As Walt Whitman put it, no doubt thinking of match managing a real tennis match, not Abe Lincoln or anything of that sort:
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won…
NewsRevue Inspired Comedy Singles: Chris Rowe v Ian Harris, 9 November 2022
Soon after taking up real tennis in 2016, I ran into Chris Stanton in the dedans gallery at Lord’s. I had known Chris from NewsRevue since 1992, when I started writing for that show and John Random chose one of my pieces for Chris Stanton to perform, making “Stanny” the first professional actor to perform my material on stage. That, together with the connection with fellow NewsRevue alum Chris Rowe, is explained in my Chris Stanton obituary piece click here or below:
Chris Rowe was a good friend of Stanny’s but a little before my time in NewsRevue…
…as I understand it, Chris Rowe introduced Chris Stanton to real tennis at Lord’s, although they had rarely played together in recent years; indeed Chris Rowe had/has played hardly at all for several years.
When Chris Rowe and I communicated and eventually met after Stanny’s sad demise, we resolved that we really should have a game of tennis together.
Eventually that idea came to fruition this very day. It was to be Chris Rowe’s first proper game of singles for some considerable time, although he made sure to have a hit with one of the pros by way of preparation.
Despite Chris’s handicap on paper being far better than mine, the pros thought that, taking dormancy into account, we should play level and see what happens.
It was actually a very good match playing level, with deuces galore and lots of good rests (which is real tennis speak for rallies).
Unfortunately, the CCTV cameras wee not recording our match for posterity, so I cannot show you any clips from the actual singles bout in question, but I can assure you that the level was much higher than my doubles level the day before…
…but I would say that, wouldn’t I?
In the absence of footage from the actual match, I thought the following highlights reel is as close as I can get to illustrating the sort of skills on show that day. Below is a six minute thrillathon, which you might prefer to the six hour marathon of the MCC v MURTC match above:
Actually, there were probably elements of the Rowe v Harris match that might be seen as comedy tennis, in particular when one of us (usually me) got caught in an “it’s behind you” position, unable to call my own chase.
We also both managed an array of “characters” correcting the chase calls and devising arcane etiquette on the fly…
…since you last played here, my good fellow, the MCC Committee has deemed it to be ungentlemanly conduct to make a chap run around the court like that and then take the point from him…
…that sort of thing.
But then, as I said when I first met Chris Stanton at Lord’s:
If John Random were to consider inventing an ancient game with bizarre, arcane rules, for comedy purposes, he need look no further than the actual laws of real tennis.
Joking apart, it was such a pleasure finally to play tennis with Chris Rowe having plotted to do so for so long. I hope we’ll do it again. Although, if he gets back into practice, Chris will need to be giving me quite a few handicap points for sure.
Violets & Fatt Pundit With Mark Ellicott, Simon Jacobs & John White, 17 October 2022
For some reason we were all being too grown up to take photos, but this was a special get together reuniting people who had all known each other at Keele for one reason or another.
In particular the musical aspects intrigued Simon Jacobs, who wondered out loud to me why I hadn’t set up a get-together with Mark.
Actually, John said something similar when I shared my Mark correspondence with him when we met up in the summer. I had no excuse, so I felt duty bound to act.
I played tennis at Lord’s – a draw at singles seeing as you were going to ask – before hot-footing it (via the flat) to Soho.
I arrived at Violet’s, grabbing a table – just inside but suitably quasi-open to the street – about five minutes before Simon arrived. From that vantage point, we observed Mark walk straight past us and then four or five minutes later he returned having got as confused as everyone else by the Berwick Street door-numbering. John arrived fashionably but not ridiculously last.
We had a good chat and a drink at Violet’s before heading a block or two up the road to Fatt Pundit, where the food was excellent and the chat got even better.
A few comedy moments with the sweet waitress whose high-pitched voice is possibly in a register that none of us, given our advancing years, could hear. But the menu was pretty-much self-explanatory, so a mixture of sign language, reading the menu and common sense allowed us to order a cracking good meal.
It was a really enjoyable four-way catch up.
Goldmine With Rohan Candappa & David Wellbrook, 18 October 2022
It was basically a “barbeque meats challenge” based on my assertion that the Queensway specialists therein, especially Goldmine, are better than those in Chinatown.
It turned into a small-scale Alleyn’s School alum thing. David Wellbrook, being Wellbrook, needed to join in the challenge, not least because Queensway is an alma mater of his where he attended the University of Romance (his wife used to live there when they were courting).
We tucked into plenty of barbeque meats, diverting briefly at the start and end of the lunchtime feast for some dim sum, just in the interests of science.
At school Rohan Candappa was always known as Candy, so it was with great mirth and merriment that David spotted “Candy World” across the street.
For those who don’t like to click and/or who don’t want all the tennis detail – here is an extract:
“It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall,” said your intrepid reporter to Carl Snitcher, having braved the 3.5 mile high-pass journey from Notting to Primrose Hill in just over 35 minutes.
“There’s a bad moon on the rise,” agreed Carl, gnomically.
We arrived at a rain-soaked Hampton Court Palace in the nick of time; just as well, as your intemporal reporter was playing in the first rubber. Some might argue that our arrival was actually “worse than two”, but a more substantial discrepancy soon revealed itself; the marker’s sheet was showing a lesser handicap for the Dedanists than the sheet that James McDermott & I had been sent.
In order to avoid a major diplomatic incident, James & I acquiesced to the lesser handicap, yet still somehow contrived to win our rubber, albeit narrowly…
On finally staggering away from the court, your incognizant reporter picked up a message that the Prime Minister had resigned. “That’s the second Liz whose expiration has been announced while I was on the real tennis court in the space of six weeks”, I mused, having been informed of the late Queen’s demise by Tony Friend while I was on the Lord’s court.
I thought I might be the tidings-bringer this time, only to discover that most of the group had learnt the demise of Liz Truss some 45 minutes earlier.
Anyway, this was no time to ponder the fate of shambolic politicians – it was time to tuck into the pies before they too were to become a footnote in history. A positive footnote in the case of the pies of course – once again a delicious choice of • Chicken Ham & Leek; • Steak & Ale.
Bread and cheese (yes please) and two species of yummy desert that self-discipline allowed me to avoid, along with the jolly wines on offer…
There’s no better way to lift the spirits on a gloomy, worrisome day than a day of pastance with Dedanists and Hamsters. Symbolically, as the nation’s political shenanigans moved on to its new phase, the heavy clouds and rain of the morning had lifted to reveal a gorgeously bright, sunny evening as we all left.
“So foul and fair a day I have not seen”, said Carl, gnomically, as I dropped him home.
I played some real tennis (& padel), I spoke at the Real Tennis Society Conference, I watched four sets of the World Championship (the middle day) and had a thoroughly good time.
Frederika (Freddy) Adam tapped me up (moments before the final I seem to recall) to see if I would produce something vaguely historical for the Real Tennis Society Conference during the World Championship in September.
Only if I can get myself a decent seat for the match that evening and a room at Prested Hall for a couple of nights.
A couple of weeks later, I somewhat idly (more in hope than expectation) checked out the match and room situation. One front row seat had popped back into the pot and so had a room for two nights at Prested Hall. I eagerly grabbed both and resolved to do something for the history conference.
The Prested people (both in the tennis club and the Hall) are incredibly helpful. They arranged for me to play real tennis on the Monday afternoon when I arrived and padel on the Wednesday morning before I left. Both were very good games.
I met one or two of my fellow real tennis addicts at dinner in the hotel on the Monday evening, but the fun really started at breakfast on the Tuesday, where I found Freddy and Michael “Mikko” Lindell, one of the other conference presenters. Almost as soon as we started to chat, Mikko asked if he could draw me. Naturally I agreed. When I got back to my room after breakfast, about 30 minutes after that request, the headline picture (above) was sitting in my e-mail inbox.
During my performance, just prior to playing an instrumental piece of music, I made a quip about suffering from pre-minstrel tension. As soon as I had finished, Mikko presented me with the following picture:
Janie is already working on getting this prized possession framed.
But we were mostly there for the World Championship, in which Camden Riviere was challenging Rob Fahey for the fifth and probably final time (Rob is now an astonishing 54), having toppled Rob in 2016 but somehow Rob had grabbed the crown back in 2018. This challenge, in September 2022, was the delayed March 2020 one.
Before the tennis was a reception, which was a chance to catch up briefly with real tennis friends who had come down just for the evening. After the tennis there was a loud and convivial atmosphere in the Prested bar/bistro – an atmosphere I can only describe as unique in the real tennis world…but then there is only one real tennis club in Essex.
The tennis that Tuesday evening was very exciting…at least it was in the end. The match was poised 2-2 sets after the first day. Camden won the first three sets on Tuesday evening with relative ease and was even 4-0 up in the fourth set of the night, when Rob somehow managed to start turning things around – astonishingly taking that set having saved several set point along the way.
Actually James joined me for breakfast briefly the next morning before he flew back to the states and I scurried over to the padel court. It was a good opportunity to chat in person having exchanged e-mails in the past but not really chatted. Several other conferencistas were there at breakfast, which was a chance to swap metaphorical notes.
After padel, I packed and left, stopping off at Lord’s for one last look at county cricket this season – well it would have been rude not to.
On the pavilion/tennis side of the ground, I ran in to a few people who had been at Prested the night before. Then I wandered round to the new Edrich Stand, gracing it with my presence for the first time in glorious autumn sunshine. It was a fitting end to a very enjoyable short trip.
During the lockdown period of our recent plague, in 2020, I found some solace while not being able to play real tennis by reading a great deal and writing a little about tennis history.
“During the reign of Charles V . palm play , which may properly enough be denominated hand – tennis , was exceedingly fashionable in France, being played by the nobility for large sums of money ; and when they had lost all that they had about them , they would sometimes pledge a part of their wearing apparel rather than give up the pursuit of the game . The Duke of Burgundy, according to an old historian , having lost sixty franks at palm play with the Duke of Bourbon , Messire William de Lyon , and Messire Guy de la Trimouille, and not having money enough to pay them, gave his girdle as a pledge for the remainder; and shortly afterwards he left the same girdle with the comte D ‘ Eu for eighty franks, which he also lost at tennis.”
[The reference in Strutt simply reads “Laboureur, sub an. 1368”.]
I wanted to find out more about this 14th century loser of a Duke.
I quickly and easily found out that the Duke in question was Philip The Bold, the youngest brother of Charles V, otherwise known as Charles the Wise.
Despite the pathetic image conjured by the girdle adage, Philip The Bold was no loser. Heralded for his bravery in battle, he became the most influential French nobleman of his period.
Further, as I shall argue in this immersive presentation, his activities had seminal and lasting effects on worlds as diverse as wine, tennis and music. But evidence to support such arguments is hard to come by for a period as early as the 14th century.
We really only have three contemporary types of information source. Chronicles [e.g. The Chronicles of Jean Froissart] which record major events and edicts. These tend to tell us that major events happened, with scant evidence about how they happened and almost nothing on activities such as tennis and music.
Secondly, the account books of noble households which provide circumstantial evidence of how activities might have been undertaken. My story will be relying quite a bit on those.
The third type of source, more open to interpretation than the other two, comes from poets and lyricists of that period. We have a few fascinating and amusing pieces of this kind for Philip the Bold’s story.
A Potted History Of Philip The Bold’s Life
Philip was born in 1342, the youngest son of John The Good, who become King of France in 1350. Philip joined with his father in 1356 in the Battle of Poitiers, a couple of decades into The Hundred Years War, where both were taken prisoner and removed to England.
Philip remained a gilded prisoner in England between 1356 and 1360, thus spending the best of his teenage years in captivity and helping to establish the tradition of English residential secondary education resembling a prisoner of war camp. More seriously, there are contemporary accounts of Philip playing chess with his captor, The Black Prince (Prince Edward of Woodstock), but sadly there is nothing in the chronicles connecting Philip with wine, tennis or music during his period in captivity – they don’t even report the chess match results.
Philip’s mother, Bonne of Luxembourg, had been a great patron of the arts, before her untimely death in 1349 of plague.
When, in 1360, the 18-year-old Philip returned from captivity to the Valois court in Paris, Guillaume de Machaut, one of the most important composer-poets of the 14th century, who had been one of Bonne’s favourites, was still a frequent guest of the royal household, certainly until the death of King John the Good some four years later.
Douce Dame Jolie by Guillaume de Machaut
The structure of the song is a virelai. The subject matter is fin’amor – often now referred to as courtly love – unrequited love directed towards a perfect, unattainable woman – the singer eventually pleads for his lover to kill him as a mercy to end his torment. Typical.
I performed this one mostly acapella with a short instrumental intro and accompanied outro.
Here is a rather beautiful instrumental version of the piece:
While here is Theo Bleckmann singing the song beautifully with electronic backing which should not be mistaken for traditional 14th century accompaniment:
A Potted History Of Philip The Bold’s Life (Continued)
In 1361 the 15-year-old Duke of Burgundy, Philip of Rouvres died, probably of plague, which meant that the Burgundy Dukedom technically reverted to the Kingdom of France. In 1363, John The Good, soon before he also died, secretly conferred the Burgundian Dukedom to Philip. In 1364, Philip’s older brother, now King Charles V, officially invested Burgundy upon Phillip.
Thus Philip was a 26-year-old single Duke at the time of the reported 1368 tennis-girdle incident.
In 1369 Philip married Margaret of Flanders which lined Philip up for a much-expanded Dukedom once Louis of Male, Count of Flanders, died, in 1384.
Four years earlier, In 1380, Charles V died, leaving 11-year-old Charles VI King of France. Three Dukes shared the regency until the youngster reached majority. Philip was the youngest of those three Dukes, but neither Louis, Duke of Anjou nor John, Duke of Berry were particularly interested in governing France, leaving Philip The Bold as de facto regent.
In 1388 Charles VI claimed the throne, but within four years was regularly in the throes of violent mental illness, such that a more tentative, disputed regency was in play for most of the rest of Philip the Bold’s life, which ended in 1404 following a flu-like or covid-like respiratory illness.
“On folio 3 1 of the same account, Monseigneur le Duc, having lost sixty pounds in tennis, gave his belt as a pledge for the said sum to the Duc de Bourbon, Guy de la Trémouille and others, who had won it from him.
“Fol. 9-3 from the same account. The duke’s belt is still given as a pledge to the Comte d’Eu for eighty francs which he had lost with him in tennis.”
Leaving a belt as surety at least sounds a little more dignified than leaving a girdle. It also has a more “sporting trophy” sound to it.
There are several references to tennis and dice losses in the expense accounts for the period when Philip was in residence in Saumur on a military campaign in 1372. On that sequence of occasions, it seems the Duke was not required to leave any clothing as surety but he took pains to seek to return and settle his debts. [This sequence is charmingly written up on-line on the Les Portes Du Temps website.]
Another fascinating reference, cited in Music at the Court of Burgundy 1364-1419 A Documentary History by Craig Wright, from the account books of 1378, shows Philip presenting Jean De Dinnat with a silver belt worth 29 francs and then 1379 with 10 francs for beating him at tennis. Jean de Dinnant was one of Philip’s favourite musicians who accompanied him at times on his travels. Still, it is most unusual to find an accounted example of a nobleman playing tennis with a minstrel. This unusual transaction makes me wonder whether the 29 franc belt might have previously been mortgaged a few times.
What we do know for sure, as reported by Wright and others interested in the history of music in Burgundy at that time, is that Philip ran up huge expenditures by the standards of his time, sending his minstrels around the music schools in France and abroad – certainly in the period 1378 to 1394, with large payments for musicians travel and instruments recorded many times in the household accounts.
Philip was not the first and not the only French/European noble to do this sort of thing in the 14th century. His parents had been great patrons of the arts, as was to some extent, Edward III of England, whose household accounts show him sending minstrels “across the seas, to learn new songs”, as early as 1335.
But a concerted bout of international minstrel schooling seems to have been triggered by the Bruges peace conferences of 1375 & 1376, brokered between Philip The Bold and his recent adversary at war, John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster. One of the few conclusive results of those peace conferences was exchanges of minstrels; Gautier l’Anglais remained in Philip’s employ for several years, while several of Philip’s minstrels travelled to England with John of Gaunt’s retinue.
Gaunt, was, like Philip, a princely patron of arts, known as “King of the Minstrels” in the Minstrels’ Court, a form of trade guild centred on Tutbury Castle, where the apprenticeship of minstrels was organised in late 14th century England.
Song Two: Puis Que Je Suy Amoureux, attributed Richard Loqueville
Attributed to Richard Loqueville – a harper and teacher at Cambrai;
A rondeau in form;
Another unrequited love song – in this one the singer hopes for just one glance from his beloved. Typical;
Performs well either as a harp/gittern instrumental or song.
Below is a beautiful rendition of the song by Asteria.
Without question Philip the Bold went large on employing musicians towards the end of his life. When his father-in-law Louis, Count of Flanders, died, Philip retained the entire Flanders collection of musicians along with his own to create probably the largest payroll of musicians anywhere at that time. His prior collection was made up primarily of minstrels, but the collection Philip acquired on the death of Louis of Flanders included a substantial chapel as well as minstrels. The burgeoning importance of the music school at Cambrai in the late 14th and early 15th century was largely attributable to Philip The Bold’s investment in musicians.
We don’t know for sure what types of music specifically Philip The Bold favoured but we do know that Phillip’s library, towards the end of his life and posthumously, was well stocked with Guillaume de Machaut’s work. Machaut, unlike many of the lyric poets who followed him, was very much a composer of music as well as a poet.
One of Machaut’s most famous pupils was Eustache Deschamps, a prolific lyric-poet otherwise known as Morel. Deschamps was a contemporary of Philip The Bold. Deschamps’s estates in Champagne had been ransacked by the English, probably under the auspices of John of Gaunt. Unsurprisingly, Deschamps writes disdainfully about the English generally. He was, however, fond of Geoffrey Chaucer, another contemporary of these chaps, such that Deschamps wrote a tribute to Chaucer lauding his work.
In the 14th century there was no real distinction between lyricists and poets. Much of Deschamps’s canon is written in lyrical forms such as virelays and rondeaus that make it hard to imagine that those poems were not intended to be sung. However, many of Deschamps’s ballad poems, including those that mention Philip the Bold and tennis, were probably intended for recitation, not song.
Philip the Bold is mentioned in far from flattering terms in a couple of Deschamps’ poems. The poem “Ordre de la Baboue” describes an imaginary drinking club of unsightly looking people who are members of Philip the Bold’s household.
More interesting is the Dit du Gieu des Dez, The Ballad Of The Dice Game, (1395), in which Deschamps imagines a drunken drinking and dice session at the Hotel de Nesle, the Duke of Berry’s Paris mansion – in which Philip the Bold together with his host & the Duke of Bourbon enjoy a night of excess and ribaldry.
The Hotel de Nesle was the location of a very early indoor tennis court, built by Philip The Fair around 1300 for his son Louis, latterly Louis X, the Quarrelsome, who famously died in the aftermath of a game of tennis, possibly drunk, possibly murdered or possibly both.
It is clear from Deschmaps and other medieval sources that an entertainment and gambling session would often have begun with the rigours of tennis and then, to continue gambling, turned to drinking and playing dice.
On similar themes, an earlier, 1372 Deschamps poem, The Charter of Good Youths of Vertus in Champagne, is a satirical ballad, set in Deschamps’s home town of Vertus, explaining how to live a “good life”. This ballad mentions tennis a couple of times. I shall recite a couple of dozen lines from this relatively long poem (more than 250 lines), sometimes swapping strict meaning to allow the English language version to follow the lyrical and satirical quality of the Medieval French.
The king of the hedonists,
Lived the long life of a dedanist;
Deep inside a tavern in Vertus,
Badly dressed, yet virtuous;
To all the young in the town,
Who habitually would come on down;
Saying “cheers”, while following this charter faithfully,
Which I shall now report to you thoughtfully and gracefully.
First, as soon as we rise, whatever the time,
Let’s refresh our mouths with the best and most expensive wine;
From dawn until dusk, without leaving or pausing for food,
As none of that would do us any good.
Assign the bill, no-one’s entitled to force it,
He who gripes or tinkers should pay double as forfeit;
Grandiose talk might turn out to be wisest,
Trading in goods might be done in many guises;
Games of tennis and dice often need arbitration,
Agree peacefully – indoors – in the court of libation.
…
Serve yourselves grandly and serve yourselves lazily,
Never care to work – people kill themselves ploughing crazily;
Play dice and tennis on sloping roofs or on thatch,
To exercise within – but if you must go out – find a match;
In women’s cloisters or communes or village communities…
[…followed by another 160 lines of bawdy verse, which no amount of trigger warnings or woke translation could repair for 21st century ears]
Philip The Bold & The Grapes Of Wrath (Pinot Noir v Gamay)
Those mentions of wine bring me to the third aspect of Philip The Bold’s legacy which I’m keen to discuss with you.
On 31 July 1395 Philip The Bold made a solemn decree about wine, banning the Gamay grape from Burgundy, insisting that the traditional, high-quality, low-yield grape, pinot noir, be restored to its rightful place in Burgundian vineyards. [The whole text of the ordinance can be found on-line in many places, including the source linked here.] Here is a loosely translated extract from the ordinance, in which Philip objects to the planting of:
“a very bad and treacherous variety of grape called Gameez, which produces abundant quantities of wine; and to allow the greater production of this bad wine they have left in a ruinous state good places where the best sort of grapes might be grown. Wine from Gameez is the type of wine that is extremely harmful to human beings, to the extent that, we are reliably informed, many people who previously partook of this wine were infested by serious diseases, because such wine from grapes of that nature is infused with much foul and horrible bitterness. For these reasons we solemnly command all who have said Gameez vines to cut them down or have them cut down, wherever they may be in our country, within five months.”
The ordinance goes on to stipulate and restrict other agricultural practices for Burgundy. It is a seminally comprehensive and prescriptive state decree on food and/or wine standards. It’s context was almost certainly the aftermath of the plague, which would have hit Burgundian wine-growers badly, both in terms of massively reduced manpower to produce fine wines from a difficult grape such as pinot noir and a reduced wider market for Burgundy’s fine wines. The Gamay grape – a cross-breed between Pinot Noir and a despised, peasant-variety, Gouais, does indeed grow abundantly compared with its high-falutin’ parent grape. Intriguingly, the Chardonnay grape is also a cross-breed between Pinot and Gouais, yet the white cross-breed latterly found favour for the fine white wines of Burgundy.
The decree was not popular at the time. The farmers were suffering and the abundant production of Gamay was saving their livelihoods and those of the wine merchants. The town council in Dijon that August voted that the ordinance was a breach of their privileges, thus rejecting it. Philip the Bold had the Mayor imprisoned and replaced. Also several councillors were fined as a result of that impertinence. When Philip made a decree he really meant it.
[ANNOUNCE MINI WINE TASTING BEFORE RETURNING BRIEFLY TO MUSIC – the wine samples were served during the remainder of the session]
Burgundian Music & Tennis Reprise
Towards the end of Philip’s life, a very young Guillaume Dufay was taken to Cambrai by his mother, where he joined the chapel as a choirboy. Little is known of Dufay’s formative years at Cambrai, but he no doubt have studied under several of the Burundian-sponsored masters and benefitted from the many conventions of musicians for which Cambrai became famous at that time. Parenthetically, there is a beautiful picture in a Cambrai book of hours, dated c1300, of monks playing jeu de paume (see below…or click this link to see many of the stunning images from that Book of Hours).
Dufay lived a long life and his compositions are seen as central to the Burgundian School’s importance in the development of music from Medieval Ars Nova into Renaissance music. This song, probably from early in Dufay’s life, is a rondeau in the ars nova style popular towards the end of Philip The Bold’s life. It would have been close to the top of the medieval charts for several of the early 1400s decades. Unlike the fin’amor love song I sang earlier, this song is a lament for leaving behind a beloved place, along with, no doubt, loved ones in that place.
Adieu Ces Bon Vins De Lannoy by Guillaume Dufay
Another rondeau, said to be inspired by Loqueville’s style, as Dufay would have studied under him.
I performed this song acapella.
Here are Asteria again, with a lovely accompanied rendition of this song.
By the end of Dufay’s life, in 1474, the Valois-Ducal-Burgundian line was almost at an end. Charles The Bold died at the Battle of Nancy in 1477 leaving no male issue. His daughter, Mary of Burgundy, Philip The Bold’s great, great granddaughter, married Maximillian I, ending the Valois dynasty, joining its remainder with the Habsburg dynasty. The Burgundian lands soon reverted to France, but by that time tennis had become more firmly established as a grand game for nobles as well as a smaller-scale town and tavern game for the middling sort.
As for music, the cross-fertilisation of music styles between the burgeoning Burgundian School and emerging techniques from England (John Dunstable’s influence was overtly recognised by Burgundian musicians) led to the development of multi-part polyphony based on triads and chords which we now consider central to Western music and which are seen musically as the transition from Medieval to Renaissance music.
My closing number is another lament to a place – Innsbruck – written by Heinrich Isaac, probably in the middle of the 1480s, when he was employed there by the Habsburg Archduke Sigismund. This piece is sometimes misattributed to Maximillian I which is as likely as the attribution of Greensleeves to Henry VIII – i.e. utterly implausible.
Innsbruck Ich Muss Dich Lassen
Here is a recording of my first (2017) attempt at this song for The Gresham Society.
Nearly five years later, I think I’m a little bit better at making music, which is more than can be said for my tennis. The following video is a good example of the full four parts Isaac wrote for this song:
In many ways Philip’s wine & music legacies are more evidentially direct, but his influence on the progress of tennis is, arguably, just as seminal and lasting. We learn from Jean-Michel Mehl, Les Jeux Au Royaume de France, 1998that:
“in 1385, Philippe le Hardi had made, in his hotel in Arras, “a pavement of thirty feet of stone to play tennis with palms. Without doubt, this tennis court was still used by Philip the Good.”
The last overt reference to tennis in the accounts of Philip’s household, according to Petit, was in 1390:
“On 10th of March, the duke donated to the lady of Suilly, a clasp of gold, garnished with four brooms and eight large pearls to three children playing tennis, shining, to the value of 180 gold francs. (Letter to the Duke, dated Rouvre 10 March)”
Here we see an older Philip sponsoring things he found beautiful, although whether the donation was primarily for the woman or primarily for the young tennis stars we’ll never know. But Philip was, repeatedly, a generous sponsor of things he liked and wanted to encourage. I warm to that aspect of him. I also share his love for wine, tennis and music.
Mini Wine Tasting
Wine One: Morgon La Chanaise 2020, Dominique Piron – Cru Beajolais – Gamay – Price range £12 to £16 per bottle
Wine Two: Les Pierres Rouges Bourgogne 2020, Louis Jadot – Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée – Pinot Noir – Price range £14 to £18 per bottle
Acknowledgements
I’d especially like to thank my friend, Gresham Society colleague and linguist Professor Tim Connell, who has helped me with translation of several Deschamps poems. One fascinating aspect of working through these poems is how open to interpretation some of the material is. I have most certainly taken liberties with some of Tim’s diligent translation, substituting an attempt to emulate the lyrical and satirical rhythm of the work at the expense of strict meaning/translation.
Also with grateful thanks to my early music tutor, Ian Pittaway, whose patient tutelage on both the music history and the techniques of medieval music-making can only be explained by his depth of knowledge and sense of humour.
Thanks also to my wife, Janie, for tolerating my incessant tapping at the keyboard, plucking at the guitar strings and warbling of the songs, regardless of whatever else might have been on the agenda these past few weeks.
Further Reading & References
Ian Harris’s Ogblog Tetralogy On The Origins Of Tennis:
Tennis: A Cultural History, Heiner Gillmeister, A&C Black, 1998 or Tennis A Cultural History (Second edition), Heiner Gillmeister, Equinox Publishing Ltd, 2017
Real Tennis Today and Yesterday, John Shneerson, Ronaldson Publications, 2015
Willis Faber Book Of Tennis & Rackets, Lord Aberdare, Hutchinson, 1980
Lowenthal Trophy 2022 Finalistas and officials: Simon Marshall, Yuri Kugler, Nick Browne, Carl Snitcher, Josh Farrall, Sebastian Wood, Ian Harris
The words tournament and success do not normally go together in the context of me playing sport. In fairness, until I started playing real tennis I hadn’t actually participated in a sporting tournament for some 40 years.
But now, I am able to report going two better than semi-final defeat.
In the Dedanists’ Society Lowenthal Trophy event at Queen’s, partnering Sebastian Wood, I not only managed to get to a final for the first time…
…we went on to win the trophy.
Let us not dwell on the details of how handicap doubles tournaments using vicious sliding handicaps work.
In particular, let us not dwell on how close we came to losing the second of our round robin matches, which we won on a single point decider after creeping from behind to four-games-all.
But I’m in danger of letting this fleeting success go to my head, so let us move on.
Dedanists v Jesters At Queen’s, 27 May 2022
The Dedanists’ Society is a private club for real tennis enthusiasts, dedicated to raising funds for the preservation of the game. The Jesters Club is an invitation only club for enthusiasts of court sports such as real tennis, squash, Rugby fives, Eton Fives and padel. Coincidentally, given the origins of my addiction to such games (rugby fives at Alleyn’s), the very first Jesters fixture, in December 1928, was a rugby fives match against The Alleyn Old Boys.
Anyway, this fixture presented me with an opportunity, just a couple of weeks later, to return to the scene of the Lowenthal Trophy crime and enjoy a friendly fixture and another fine dinner at Queen’s.
On this occasion I got a chance to resume my partnership with James McDermott:
We prevailed, just about, in our rubber, early in the event, before settling down to enjoying the atmosphere at Queen’s, taking some tea and watching some real tennis.
The flagship match of the event was the father & son combination, Richard & Bertie Vallatt vs Alex Brodie and Andy Keeley. It was a splendid watch for us lesser amateurs and a bit of a leveller for me.
As I get older, I realise that certain statements that older people make, such as, “the policemen look younger and younger” express how those older people feel, rather than an objective reality about the average age of policemen.
But when I say, “the county championship seems to start earlier and earlier” I believe that is pretty much true…although not by all that much.
The last time I froze this much, Daisy and I went to see the second day of the 2013 season in Nottingham, 11 April that year, reported on King Cricket at that time…
I had arranged to play tennis at 14:00. I got to Lord’s in time to see most of the first session of play. I decided to sit in the relatively sheltered central part of the pavilion forecourt, where I watched, read and chatted a little with one or two other hardy folk. The stewards reckoned I wouldn’t last long out there but actually it wasn’t too bad in the morning and the new soft padding on the pavilion benches…
…standards are falling…
…made the whole experience less painful than expected.
After a very close game of tennis, which my adversary won by dint of the odd point here and there, I took my time over my ablutions and then grabbed a soft drink followed by a light bite and coffee – initially in the pavilion bar but subsequently, as the sun was shining, I took my coffee in the new Compton Stand – a vantage point from which I took the headline picture (also replicated above).
But even in the sunshine, it was bitterly cold by that afternoon period, so I decided to return to the pavilion.
By the time I got to the pavilion, Josh de Caires had taken a wicket. This was to be my burden all afternoon; I didn’t actually get to see a single wicket – I was either changing or on the move every time Middlesex took a wicket. One of the friendly pavilion stewards even asked me to keep moving around, as my moves seemed to coincide with Middlesex’s success so comprensively.
Anyway…
…I decided to focus on 19-year-old Josh de Caires’s bowling.
I watched for a while from one of my favourite vantage points, the writing room. If you ever wondered what it looks like from behind the sight screen, wonder no more – the above picture gives you a pretty good impression of it…indeed much like an impressionistic art work.
I had brought plenty of warm clobber with me and I decided to don the lot of it. After all, as Alfred Wainwright famously said:
“There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing.”
Thus I braved the middle tier balcony, as evidenced by the following pictures…
…for about three overs, before I decided that jumper, thick jacket, scarf, hat and gloves were insufficient for me as the sun was going down on a seriously chilly April day.
I congratulated the handful of hardy folk who remained on the balcony, admitting to them that I was a wimp. One agreed. One consoled me by letting me know that I was far from the first to have tried and failed to brave the afternoon chill. One pointed out that I hadn’t lowered the ear-flaps on my hat, which might have made all the difference.
I watched the remainder of the day from the impressionistic comfort of the writing room. Naturally Middlesex took a wicket while I was ambling down one flight of stairs from balcony to room.
I had a very good day. I read, I chatted, I played tennis and best of all I watched some live cricket again.
This piece of amateur research was triggered, towards the end of 2021, by a casual enquiry by Carl Snitcher, a leading light in the Dedanists & Real Champions world, while we were on our way to play a match at Hampton Court Palace.
Carl was wondering whether the asserted date of 1740 for the first real tennis champion was accurate. Some had suggested it was not. I was the only amateur tennis historian Carl had to hand at that moment.
The answer to the exam question: “Did Clergé become the first tennis champion in precisely the year 1740?”, is a reasonably straightforward one; I shall answer it briefly in the next section of this piece.
But I realised, on engaging in this small piece of research, that, far more interesting than the numerical, “when?” question, is the more human query, “who on earth was this initial tennis champion Clergé?”
Other great players of this time (1740- 1753) were Clergé, the elder Farolais, La Fosse, Barcellon (the father), and Barnéon. Clergé was the most remarkable…
Paumiers qui acquirent, il y a trente ou quarante ans, une certaine réputation de force, furent les sieurs Clergé, Farolais pere, La Fosse, Barcelon pere & Barneon ; — le sieur Clergé étoit le plus vanté…”
…except in the matter of dates, where Manevieux is saying “these past thirty or forty years” rather than stating specific dates. Manevieux no doubt spent several years writing his amateur treatise.
As an early music lover, I am at home with the use of “circa” for dates derived from estimates based on best available evidence. I find the term “circa 1740” suitably precise yet hedged for the starting date of Clergé’s pre-eminence.
Who Was This Manévieux Fella?
Before we explore the story of Monsieur Clergé, I’d like to delve a little into the author, Manévieux , upon whose 1783 writings our knowledge of the early tennis champions is based.
He is almost certainly otherwise (or more completely) known as Louis-Claude Bruyset de Manévieux, who published a couple of other works, in particular a eulogy to his great uncle,Jean André Soubry (1703-1774), Treasurer of France in Lyon.
One of my bugbears is that we have no picture of Clergé, nor of Manévieux for that matter, but there is a contemporaneous portrait of Soubry, which will have to do in the “eye candy” department for the time being:
In the 1783 tennis treatise, Monsieur Manévieux describes himself as an amateur. Whether he means amateur tennis player, writer or historian is unclear. Sounds like my kind of guy in any case.
Manévieux dedicates the treatise to Le Comte D’Artois, who went on to become Charles X after the Bourbon Restoration. As a youngster, Charles, Count of Artois was famous for his drinking, gambling and womanising (presumably he wasted the other 10% of his time), the fashionable rumour of the time was that Charles was having an affair with his sister-in-law, Marie-Antoinette. He famously won a bet with Marie-Antoinette that he could get his architect, François-Joseph Bélanger, to design and build a party palace within three months. The result, at enormous expense, was the 1777 Château de Bagatelle.
Charles, Count of Artois was unusually keen on tennis for a French royal of his era. Thierry Bernard-Tambour (good name for a tennis historian, Tambour) in his article on 18th century royal paumiers, registers, from royal archives that that…
Janvier-Jacques [Charrier] became the King’s paumier in 1763, also [paumier to the] Count of Artois
and
[ball making by] Etienne Edmond [Quillard] in 1765 for the Dauphin and the Count of Artois
…which means that Artois did play tennis from his infancy. The Manévieux dedication suggests that Charles retained an interest in the game into adulthood. Shneerson (pp76-77) provides some fascinating insights into Charles’s extravagant behaviours and spending around the game. D’Artois apparently had a hissy-fit when spectators applauded his opponent in a public court. After that, he only wanted to play on private courts. Between 1780 and 1786 he had his architect, Belanger, build him a court on the Boulevard du Temple – as much for drinking, gambling and womanising as for watching/playing tennis if the designs are anything to go by. That was probably the last pre-revolution court built in France.
Charles spent several years in England during his exile from France, during which time he is known to have played regularly at the James Street (Haymarket) court, spectators presumably having been warned not to cheer the future King of France’s opponents.
But let us now return to Monsieur Clergé himself.
Wikipedia (Unusually Not) To The Rescue
My usual starting point for research of this kind is Wikipedia, but on this occasion, at the time of writing (December 2021), Wikipedia was having a bit of a shocker in the matter of our first named tennis champion, Monsieur Clergé.
Parenthetically, it is amusing to note that Louis de Rouvroy,The Duke of Saint-Simon founded his own fame and reputation as a memoirist on the back of his annotations of Dangeau’s memoires, despite stating that Dangeau’s writing was:
of an insipidity to make you sick.
Still, the period of the Dangeau memoires; 1684-1720, covered the last 30+ years of The Sun King, Louis XIV’s reign and the early years of the Louis XV era.
Here is an example from the autumn of 1685:
Sunday 4 November 1685, in Fontainebleau. – The King went to shoot; My lord [Louis the Grand Dauphin] did not go out all day; he made the good jeu de paume players play, and Jourdain played better than little Breton or little Saumur had ever played, as people say at that time.
I am not the first tennis historian to trawl those 19 volumes for nuggets of information about tennis, nor will I be the last. It is mostly pedestrian stuff, but I discern and summarise the following:
tennis was on the whole falling from favour in royal circles during that period;
more or less only in the autumn, when the royals were at Fontainebleau and Versailles for the hunting season, does tennis feature at all in their lives;
younger members of the royal family would “have a go” – Louis the Grand Dauphin was still having an occasional hit in the earlier period of those diaries. For example, on 3 December 1686, he played on the three-day old new court at Versailles – the Grand Dauphin continued to play regularly there throughout the winter of 1686/87, but the novelty of playing there soon wore off for him;
there was more enthusiasm for watching professional players play than for having a hit themselves – the royals tended to watch if the weather was too poor for hunting and/or if they were entertaining visiting dignitaries, such as exiled English royals;
one of the Jourdain brothers was the pre-eminent player in the mid 1680s at least;
in October 1687 the professionals at Fontainebleau petitioned The Sun King for a licence to exhibit their skills in Paris; this he granted:
Thursday 9 October 1687, in Fontainebleau. – The King saw the good players of jeu de paume play, who asked that they be allowed to take money to see them play in Paris; it would earn them money, and apparently the king will allow them.
Sunday 26 October 1687, in Fontainebleau. – The king saw the good players of jeu de paume playing, and granted them the privilege they asked for; they will play twice a week in Paris, and will be displayed like the actors. They are five: the two Jourdains, le Pape, Clergé et Servo.
I believe the above mention of Clergé The Elder to be the only one by Dangeau himself. There is a further mention in the autumn of 1690 which comes from a Saint-Simon footnote, the detail presumably extracted from Mercure:
Thursday 12 October 1690, in Fontainebleau. – The bad weather made it difficult for people to go hunting. – The king led the exiled royals [James II & Mary of Modena] of England to the tennis court, where the great players played (1).
(1) “The weather was so bad in the afternoon that we could not go chasing the deer. So we only went to the game of jeu de paume, where a game between the Jourdain brothers and le Page, Clerget [sic] and Cerveaux against them, gave a lot of pleasure.” (Mercure of October, p. 297)
Eagle-eyed lovers of tennis might have noticed that the account suggests that the exhibition match might have been three-a-side, or possibly three-against-two. Accounts from the 17th and 18th century, such as they are, suggest that such matches were quite common at that time – possibly even the norm for exhibition matches.
What Do We Know About The Initial Tennis Champion, Clergé The Younger?
The first thing to say is that there must have been an elder and younger Clergé, despite some histories suggesting that the Clergé referred to by Dangeau in 1687 and the Clergé referred to by Manévieux as being pre-eminent for some years from c1740 might have been one and the same person.
Even those of us who marvelled at the skills displayed at Lord’s, until recently, by nonagenarians Robin Simpson and the late Major Jan Barnes, would admit that the giddy heights of skill described by Manévieux are probably only at their peak for a decade or two or (at a push) three.
possibly a son, or grandson, of a player of the same name, mentioned above [by Dangeau]
…while in Real Tennis Today and Yesterday, John Shneerson is more resolute:
probably the grandson of the Clergé who played in front of Louis XIV.
I agree. The tennis business tended to be a family business, in those days to an even greater extent than it is today. Assuming our c1740 champion Clergé was the grandson of the Louis XIV petitioning and performing Clergé, it is probable that the father was also “in the business”.
In truth, we know almost nothing about the early life of the younger Clergé.
The Master Paumiers who acquired, over the past thirty or forty years, a certain strong reputation, were Messrs Clergé, Farolais (the father), La Fosse, Barcelon (the father) & Barneon. Mr Clergé was the most extolled by the strength of his first stroke, which he executed perfectly. He was the man who played the doubles game best, taking only the shots he had to, according to the rules, bolstering & warning his second, strong or weak, to take the ball. Very different from other players, who tend to make their second useless, by hogging the whole game.
When Clergé had taken the serve [hazard end], he advanced to the last [winning] gallery, appearing to defend the galleries with volleys from boasts, cross-court forces and shots off the tambour, warning his second to play the others. On the service side, he would take his place in the line of four tiles [around chase one-and-two] near the [dedans] post, where he volleyed forehand or backhand the forces or boasts off the main wall. He preferred to allow the ball to land a chase than to move from this position & let his second play all the other shots.
Nobody, in a word, was nor will be held in higher regard, not only for the strength of his game, but also for the strength of his character – Mr Clergé was a totally honest paumier. There was no deceit to his game nor did he succumb to the commercial interests that sooner or later tend to prejudice the professional player; he never played for money.
It really does sound as though he was a great bloke, Clergé, as well as a great player.
We think we know just a little more about his later life.
Between those two notable/notarised events, we find our hero assisting Louis Joseph, Prince of Condé in putting the finishing touches on his jeu de paume court at Chantilly, in 1756/1757.
It was Clergé who put the finishing touches on that Chantilly jeu de paume and who also acted as paumier to Louis Joseph, Prince of Condé for some while after that:
It is to Henri-René Clergé du Gillon, master paumier, that we entrust the regulatory finish of the room, to namely “the black painting of the Jeu de Paume three separate times”. Finally, we equip the room with nets and we buy different “utensils” needed for the game for nearly 1,500 pounds.
By that time, Guillaume Barcellon had been appointed paumier to King Louis XV, in 1753. Modern historians suggest that Clergé’s supremacy as a player had probably waned by then and that Barcellon was the champion player for a dozen or so years.
We also know, based on an undated mention in Manévieux, that Antoine-Henri Masson at one time (probably after 1765, once his supremacy had been established) challenged and defeated Clergé and Charrier, having given them half-fifteen in handicap.
La Taille et La Taille the younger, Bunelle, Clergé, Farolet, Masson, Charrier and Barcellon
But, when Manévieux lists paumiers and their courts at the end of his 1783 treatise, the name Clergé is absent. Possibly he had retired, possibly he had died between 1775 and 1783.
There might now be enough evidence gathered in one place (I’m pretty sure this article is more comprehensive than anything previously published about Clergé) to enable a keen historian to dig deeper and uncover more.
Picture This: Henri-René Clergé du Gillon, aka “Clergé The Younger”
I mentioned earlier that it seems such a shame that we have no portrait of the first champion of tennis, the first sport to establish a continuous world championship.
We have images of Barcellon and Masson, who followed soon after Clergé The Younger, but none of our hero. Perhaps he eschewed pictorial publicity as well as pay for play.
So I decided to commission a fine artist – the only amateur fine artist I had to hand at that moment – to create an artist’s impression of what Clergé The Younger might have looked like.
There you have it – Clergé The Younger – he looks and sounds like such a fine chap.
Acknowledgements
With grateful thanks to the many encouraging and helpful people whose comments and ideas have shaped and are shaping my scribblings on tennis history. In particular thanks to Thierry Bernard-Tambour for additions and corrections (currently in process).
At the beginning of November, life seemed to be almost getting back to normal. Lots of real tennis in convivial circumstances for a start,
Thursday 4 November 2021 – MCC Real Tennis Skills Night
For my sins, I have inherited, from John (“Johnny”) Whiting, the role of “match manager” for the popular skills nights at Lord’s. A few years ago, on hearing John and the professionals discussing the amount of organising the event needs on the night, I made the schoolboy error of offering to help next time. John saw the offer of help as an opportunity to step down; frankly, Johnny had done it for so many years, who can blame him?
Fortunately for me, Johnny had left comprehensive instructions and spreadsheets rendering the event almost fool-proof, as long as there are a couple of pros who know what they are doing to make the event run smoothly on the court, which, of course, it did.
Alternatively, if anything ever goes awry with the MCC site link, a scrape of the report can be found here.
Naturally, skills night is as much an exercise in conviviality as it is an exercise in tennis court skills.
However, the assembled throng did have to listen to me waffling on about prizes and the like:
A Week Of Tennis & Dining Out 6 to 12 November 2021
Quite a week. Janie and I went to Simon Jacobs place for dinner on 6th, where he cooked a delicious soup followed by chicken & mushroom pie. Lots of chat about music and that sort of thing. No photos on this occasion but there are photos from our previous visit, before lockdown 2.0:
I played a fair bit of tennis that week, not least a ridiculous 24 hours during which I played an hour of real tennis singles on the Tuesday evening, two hours of modern tennis on the Wednesday morning (part singles, part doubles), then a match, representing MCC against Middlesex University on the Wednesday, which ended up being another two-and-a-half hours of doubles. No wonder I served a couple of double-faults at the end of my second rubber on the Wednesday evening. Again, no photos from the match this time, but here’s a report with pictures and videos from the most recent equivalent home fixture – a couple of years ago:
On Thursday 11th, I went to the office for the first time (other than for a team meeting) in more than 18 months. Then I met up with Johnboy – initially in “Ye [sic] Old Mitre” (it really should read “þe Old Mitre”, you know) and then on to Chettinad Restaurant (my choice), as I thought a high-quality Indian meal would be a good way for us to “get back on the bike” of dining out. The food was very good.
It had been a really long while since John and I had met up for a simple restaurant meal – our last few gatherings had either been at homes, the four of us or the four of us at homes. This Yauatcha meal might have been the previous one:
Then on the Friday I was evicted from this year’s MCC singles tournament for feeble-handicappers in the Round of 16. I don’t think I’ll try tournament singles again. I love playing singles more than doubles on a friendly basis but doubles makes more sense at my level for matches and tournaments.
Tennis At All Sorts Of Levels, Performances Of Various Kinds & A Bit Of A Boost, 15 to 29 November 2021
On 15 November I spent a very jolly afternoon at The Queen’s Club watching real tennis played by real players; The British Open 2021.
I saw Neil Mackenzie take on Matthieu Sarlangue, then Zac Eadle challenge Nick Howell, then finally (and most excitingly, a five setter) Edmund Kay against Darren Long. Here is a link to the draw/results on the T&RA website. If by any chance that link doesn’t work, I have scraped the file to here.
I spent much of the afternoon & evening with my friend/adversary Graham Findlay with whom, by chance, I was due to battle with myself that very Thursday. I was thus able to reciprocate the coffee and cake Graham kindly treated me to at Queen’s with a light bite in The Lord’s Tavern after our battle on the Thursday, before I went home to perform my latest ThreadMash piece – click here or below.
Janie and I had an afternoon of adventure on the Friday, having our Covid vaccinations boosted (we don’t get out much these days – all such matters need noting).
Most people reported a sore arm and aches. We both got the aches but strangely my arm did not feel at all sore at the vaccination site and I was able to play lawners lefty-righty all weekend.
A quieter week followed. I continued to play some doubles in partnership with Andrew Hinds, in preparation for our R16 match – this we did Tuesday 16th and Monday 22 November.
… star in Little Women at The Park Theatre on the Thursday, but sadly our performance needed to be cancelled due to cast illness (not Lydia) that day, so we’ll miss the run now.
On Monday 29th, Andrew Hinds (depicted wooden-spoon-wielding, left, in the photo below) and I won a place in the quarter finals of the feeble-handicappers’ doubles tournament.
Due to competitor/court availability (or lack thereof) before the seasonal break, that means that we shall still be in the 2021/22 tournament into the New Year – the equivalent of getting to week two of a grand slam lawn tennis tournament – but in a very slightly less-elevated way.