If you're going to be a Loser...

Many years ago, when I separated from from my first husband, I decided to do two things (well three, if you count limiting myself to crying into my pillow so the children didn't see me upset) and they were to start watching Norwich City again and to play tennis.

My Mum's old racquet - genuine vintage!

I have always loved tennis - both watching it and playing it. It’s in my blood - my parents used to play when they were courting, and I used my Mum’s racquet when I first started playing. It was kept in a racquet press which bore the legend, handwritten in pencil, ‘14th June 1937, Love from Arthur x’ Probably one of the first presents my Dad ever bought for my Mum.

14th June 1937, Love from Arthur x

I would spend hours hitting a ball against the back wall, driving my family mad with the repetitive thud and, when I went to High School I discovered a modicum of talent for the game. I was completely enamoured of the whole thing especially the silly white dresses. 

I was eleven years old, and also an avid Bunty reader, and loved the cut out dolls on the last page. Imagine my delight when ‘Bunty plays tennis’ appeared. I persuaded my Mum to make me one of the outfits - a natty shorts / dress combo that must have been really tricky to manufacture. I loved it, but there was one major drawback. Clearly Bunty never actually played tennis, because the minute I extended my body to serve, the shorts gave me an excruciating wedgie - not conducive to concentrating on the game! 

The World's most impractical tennis outfit!

I never could bring myself to tell my lovely Mum all those years ago, and just wore my PE kit to play in from then on. My claim to fame was that I was House Tennis Captain when my house shared the House Tennis Cup, and I can honestly still remember the shot I played that won the crucial match - even our PE teacher applauded!

Fast forward thirty years and on my own with two children, I decided it was time to get out there again. My local council was advertising a ‘ladies tennis group’ at the clifftop courts so I went along. The first week I didn't even get out of the car, I felt that anxious, but my love of tennis helped me overcome my fears and the second week I joined in. When the funding ended for the clifftop group, we moved to the local tennis club, where about eight of us continued to play regularly on Monday evenings and Thursday mornings. As my job became ever more demanding I got further and further out of the loop until…I retired! The very day after I finished work I rejoined the club and now play twice, sometimes three times week. 

Treated myself to more modern equipment!

There now four or five of us who play, all of a certain age and of varying strengths and abilities - one of us is brilliant at drop shots, one at lobbing opponents, one at running down every shot thrown at her and my return of serve is pretty good. We are all united by one thing, however - inconsistency! For every exquisite passing shot, at least ten are wide, for every searing overhead smash, I should think ninety percent find the wrong side of the net and for every perfect lob, the woman who never gives up will find a way to get them back running around the court like a demented terrier. 

We are undisputed queens of the unforced error! That being said, we have so much fun and are so hardy that we turn up unabashed each week, even if the courts are frozen or there’s a gale force wind, knowing that at least we will have something to blame for our poor performance - we do, however, eschew the little white dresses in favour of thermals these days! The other thing that unites us is our ridiculous British politeness. Whilst we might be rejoicing inside for the stunning drop shot we’ve just played, we always apologise for making the opposition run in vain! No fist pumping or high fives for us, just a discrete grin to our partner.

I know tennis isn't everyone’s idea of fun, but for me it is completely joyful - I don't even need to reward myself with a hot chocolate when I get home - a hot shower is all I need! And if you’re going to be a loser, you may as well do it in good company and the fresh air!