The Estuary Wilds weather forecast suggested rain. My instinct was to GTFO and play wiff waff before all the beastliness came chucking it down once again. It was a wise decision. We managed a half hour game of dry table tennis, with only light wind but darkened skies.
A new serve was inflicted on me by A. I’m not being funny, but it was crap. It was basically a backhand serve, with an attempt at spin to kill the ball dead on the first bounce. It was signposted in such an obvious way before delivery. All I needed to do was to lean forward and smash down the return.
I was struggling however to find my length on the outdoor table. I was aiming for the far corners each time - the most difficult areas of the table in which to put in a decent return. The ball was falling short - or probably long - by a couple of centimetres each time.
Which was all something of a shame, seeing as though we a captive half term audience at various stages. I do bloody love showboating. I just need to make sure that I have something to showboat about. I was BATTERED 4-1, natch.
