Every day making my bed

Filtering through the misfiring game some thoughts. Living in  a life without meaning as the song of one of my 70s favourites goes….  It’s January stormy windy and wet outside. Difficult to get any rythmn going. Still turning up, chopping wood, carrying

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Post Wimbledon blues – Always like never before

Watching the world’s best is bad for my tennis. Perfection unreachable. Every year – Always like never before, mind the gap between the professional and the wanna be. Thurs after Wimbledon. Third time back on court. Maybe it’s the coaching

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Marching on the spot

There is room for optimism If February was all about getting back to competition and preparing for the season ahead. March has been like sitting in a draughty wet waiting room waiting for a delayed train to arrive.  Yes, there

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Played nine, lost nine. Everything fine!

If nothing else played nine, lost nine should have removed any fear of losing. Framing my tennis around my performance and not just hard results, is helping me here.  “I wouldn’t be able to cope with that” I am told

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