Tennis

Yesterday I played some street tennis with my son and can now inform that there are several other injuries caused by hard playing (or lack of practice ?) than just tennis elbow. This morning I can report tennis wrist, tennis knee, tennis ankle, tennis neck and tennis ear.

And while we are talking about tennis... I have always wondered about the romances between women and their tennis pros that the motion pictures give us many examples of. My first tennis coach was three times my age, my au pair family's slightly alcoholic "Oncle Bob" in France. Do I need to say more. I can maybe add that he in fact was the former French champion in table tennis, and here over 20 years after he suddenly gets my respect now knowing that table tennis actually is a sport, thanks to Michael Maze (in my younger days table tennis was just a basement flirt with the neighbour's handsome son). Well, Oncle Bob, I might revert to you later as I got inspired to write about "Indecent proposals" from JB's funny blog.

My next tennis pro was a hairy Greek, lisping and with IQ of 10. Do I need to say more. The last one was a Spanish guy, only twice my age. But at that time I was more preoccupied by Sr Rioja who used to play at the same time on the court next to me. He was maybe also 3 times my age, but I dreamed badly having Rioja as my last name. Then I found out that in Spain women don't take their husbands' last names, and I went back to work.

So these tennis romances, do they exist ? Yes, as the house where we live in now, was sold as a result of a bitter divorce. The wife had left the husband one morning and moved together with her tennis pro.