To the Table of Dreams! …on Saturday lunchtime it’s been a while since we rocked up and played outdoors.
The field around us was extremely parched. It was like playing on the Oval table of dreams back in South London. Whenever the ball bounced off the table and behind you, it just kept on bouncing and bouncing and bouncing and then rolling.
Our first task however was to wait for some little shits to leave the table. As ever they were treating it as their own personal dance floor. The entitlement of some of the jumped-up middle-class little twats around here is unbelievable.
There was also the strange sight of some cutlery left underneath the table. I suspect this is another hangover from people mistaking a table tennis table for a picnic table.
We were both out of form. Let me rephrase that: I was more out of form than my playing partner. She managed to BATTER me 5-0, despite playing some very questionable shots.
There was talk of playing best of 11. I really couldn’t be arsed.
