To the Table of Dreams! …for the second consecutive day. The public park was eerily quiet. In the distance we could see smoke emerging from Fingeringhoe Wick. This is something of a worry. The fields around these estuary wilds parts are absolutely tinderbox dry. I did think of doing a rain dance before we had our wiff waff warm-up.
Our first decision was which ball to use. We started TWATTING the ball from corner to corner using the conventional indoor ball. The wind picked up picked up and the warm up became a little more anarchic. Time for the heavier ball.
The wind ball carries plenty of momentum when you it the sweet spot and the ball bounces a few metres back. It then continues to roll way down the long slope of the hill, such is a lack of friction on the bone dry grass. I confess to taking great pleasure in achieving this kind of shot and making my playing partner increase her step count for the day.
The game was interrupted by a celebrating clucking from one of the hens in the nearby coop. “She’s just laid an egg!” declared my playing partner. Yeah, well done you. I’ve got a game of table tennis to try and win.
Somehow I found myself 2-1 in a best-of-five. This isn’t gonna last, right? We went into the final game decider, with everything to play for.
The score actually went up to 10-1-, with 11 needed for victory although two clear points to seal it. I bottled it. Blame the clucking hen that put me off my stroke.
