It was a sweaty one as we made our way over to the sailing club for the Monday evening table tennis social. Thankfully the sailing club loft had a breeze corridor with the newly installed Velux windows open.

The usual warm-ups took place with the usual drills. We’re getting quite skilled now in TWATTING the ball from corner to corner at some pace. It then all falls apart when I start playing an actual scoring game.

Midway through the session and a newcomer arrived. It’s always good to play different opponents. You get to be surprised by their level of skill and choice of shots. Your own game needs to adapt around those.

We started off playing with a high tide and ended up with the plug having been pulled out on the water below us. In between our hour and a half or so of playing, we managed to witness from the balcony some dinghy racing as well as the Rowhedge gig heading downstream and then back.

We left the sailing club with skies darkening and a slightly cooler breeze breaking up all the humidity. It’s a pretty perfect place to play table tennis.

One of the best things about playing pickleball up at the university is that we then find ourselves with a couple of outdoor table tennis tables just begging us for a brief game. It’s always rude not to.

After a two-hour session playing pickleball inside, we headed to the Great Outdoors for a knock-up on the university table of dreams.

Although these look identical to our table of choice back in Weird Wiv, it actually plays a lot harder. There is a definite louder clanking of the ball when it hits the surface. It makes for a very speedy game.

Some of these shots get a little hit and miss. It helped on Monday that campus was deserted, with no students around to witness some of the wiff waff shots gone wrong.

I was experimenting a little when I then heard some shrieks of laughter. I turned around to see a whole coach load of secondary school kids being offered a tour of the campus. Taking in table tennis probably wasn’t on their agenda for the day.

The wind picked up a little. We felt for the nearby trees that have recently been felled down to around 10 m or so. It looks like the idea was to try and encourage growth. The lack of greenery and the rotting bark suggests this experiment has failed.

My belief in Mother Nature was restored slightly when a butterfly joined us for one final game. The little fella almost went back and forth with the ball, tracking it from one end of the table to the other.

If Mr. Butterfly was keeping score, he would have clocked up another 3-2 defeat for me.

To the Table of Dreams! …on Sunday morning. We got our timing all wrong. I was in search of a wellbeing bollocks table tennis therapy session. Instead all I got was the bloody church bells doing my absolute nut in.

Oh well.

The next decision was which ball do we play with? Although the Estuary Wilds heat had already started to build, there was also a strong breeze blowing across the park.

We opted for the wind ball. Later in the day I remember that the wind ball was covered in dog shit when we played back at the Oval a couple of weeks ago.

The park was surprisingly quiet apart from the bloody church bells. The lack of activity only served to amplify the right old racket made by the people tugging away on their bell ends.

I stormed to a 2-0 lead, if that is, you can ever storm to a 2-0 lead.

I started to get cocksure. I’m going to win this, right? Nope. My 2-0 lead soon became a 3-2 defeat. The stupid dumb bells still hadn’t stopped by the time I was walking away in shame.

To the sailing club!… on Monday evening for the latest in the sailing club table tennis get togethers. Except it wasn’t that social; no other fuckers had turned up.

There was a GC meeting down below. This meant that the club was open and we had access to the loft for our own private game of indoor table tennis.

Despite the lack of different opposition, I really wanted to play. We had stunning views from the loft looking out down towards the estuary. It was a little stuffy in there but this didn’t hold us back.

Fifteen minutes also of TWATTING the ball back and forth, and a third player rocked up. This meant we could play winner stays on.

This is a great approach to table tennis. A and I seemed to rotate frequently with the third person pretty much anchored down with his position on the table.

I optimistically declared that I am the best player in the club towards the end of the session. This was justified when I went on a winning streak and knocked the other two off.

King of the Table, modesty in motion. That’s me.

To the Table of Dreams!… on Friday lunchtime. This was an afternoon for playing with the extra heavy wind ball. The only problem was that the wind ball got lost somewhere around the back of a Lambeth estate sometime last weekend whilst we were on the piss at the cricket.

New balls please.

Thankfully we managed to rustle up a spare wind ball; it was most definitely needed.

I was also PONCING around wearing a pair of new cycling specs. I don’t think there is such an item as table tennis specs. As ever I looked the absolute bollocks.

Something I kept quiet in the fashion stakes was my iPhone stashed away down the side of my Y-fronts. I forgot my Apple Watch so I couldn’t strava the session. My shorts had no pockets. I really can’t stand playing table tennis to be honest; I only play so I can strava it. The iPhone down the pants it was, needs must.

Some of the scoring went a little wonky. We lost track as to who should be serving and when we were changing serves. There was one particular epic game that went to 16-14, with two clear points needed ahead of the usual 11 points that gets you over the line.

Rather worryingly a drone circled overhead throughout the game. I fear it was some local snooper wanting to dob me in for stashing an iPhone down my Y-fronts.

I walked away having lost 3-1. There’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in putting an iPhone down your pants.

It’s been a joy in recent weeks walking down to the Monday evening table tennis sessions at the sailing club. Those dark winter days seem in the distant past when a headlight was needed to navigate the various obstacles and estuary path en route to the Table Tennis HQ.

I rocked up shortly after 7:00 PM on Monday to find a high tide that was completely flat as a pancake. It was most tranquil. Time to disrupt that peace with some ping pong action.

Our usual group had been reduced to three for this evening, no worries. That meant extra table time for us all. We played a rough game of winner stays on. I wasn’t on for very long.

I was finding it hard to find my length on the indoor table, having been blown away at the Oval yesterday, as well as then having a bit of a pickleball strength left in my arms from the session this morning.

I do love playing indoors, and the sailing club location is the most picturesque setting for a game of whiff-waff. Apologies, oval table of dreams, but there’s no dog shit to manoeuvre around here.

To the Oval Table of Dreams! on Sunday afternoon. We had a rare his and hers away day jolly down at the Oval. Who wants to waste 40 minutes during the luncheon break having a picnic out in the middle, when you can head to the back of the Harleyford Road and enjoy the public table tennis tables?

These are perhaps the only decent thing going for Lambeth Council, 2026. The previous Labour administration fucked up on so many fronts. If I had the chance then my vote possibly might have gone to Labour, only as a direct consequence of them providing a couple of superb outdoor table tennis tables at the back of the Oval.

There you go again Jase, making it all about you and table tennis.

We had a brief knock-up as time was a little tight. We went for the usual corner-to-corner four-arm smash warm-up rally. The table played very fast. It didn’t help that it has a slight lean to it.

The game got underway. As well as a fast table we had to contend with the hard pavement. Whenever the ball bounced onto the closed-off LTN road, it bounced and bounced and bounced, pretty much all the way down to the Oval crease. It usually ended up resting in a pile of dog shit.

The closed LTN was far from quiet. We had to pause serving a number of times for the expected procession of endless Lime bikes.

I got rather enthusiastic during one particular rally. We both TWATTED the ball back and forth at tremendous speed. It took a ricochet off my partner’s bat and was projected up into the air and over into a nearby garden of an estate. The garden was locked. The ball was lost.

I was trailing 3-0 at the time. I officially called it an abandoned game as you can’t play table tennis without a ball. I do love these table tennis mini tours.

Another Monday night, another social table tennis get together at the sailing club. We’ve been playing for almost a year now. It’s the same players: me, K, A, A agin and N. We’re pretty much all of the same standard. We rotate playing each other for an hour and a half or so, with no one ever really emerging dominant.

I’ve really enjoyed playing different players and opening up to their various quirks and techniques. We’re learning how to master each other, with some bloody decent rallies taking place.

This evening was a bit of a sticky one up in the Sailing Club loft. We had the balcony door open, with a table against it to stop the ball heading out into the river. That’s something that the world table tennis championship players don’t have to contend with.

It took a while to find my length on the indoor table. It’s a much faster game. Balls go flying and get lost around all the various crannies in the Sailing Club loft.

We usually finish up with a game of doubles. Time and tide literally were a little tight for us all this evening. Monday evenings are becoming the new Friday nights for me.

Another day, another game of table tennis down at the table of dreams. We rocked up to find the public field rather busy. In particular, there was a gathering of primary school boys hanging around the table. Here we go, I thought.

The little shits had commissioned the table as their HQ for some kind of water fight. The table was covered in water whilst they were filling up balloons and water pistols etc. No harm done, but hey! I really want to play table tennis.

Rather harsh but friendly words were exchanged. I asked them if it was ok to play, and then encouraged them to tidy up the mess they had made all around the table. They looked a little sheepish. Whatever.

We pressed on with the game. We weren’t the only Sunday lunchtime locals enjoying the facilities. A rare game of boules was taking place on the recently installed court.

The wind picked up and it became more favourable for boules players than table tennis hopefuls. My playing partner blew me away with a predictable 3-2 victory.

Another day, another game of table tennis down at the table of dreams. We rocked up to find the public field rather busy. In particular, there was a gathering of primary school boys hanging around the table. Here we go, I thought.

The little shits had commissioned the table as their HQ for some kind of water fight. The table was covered in water whilst they were filling up balloons and water pistols etc. No harm done, but hey! I really want to play table tennis.

Rather harsh but friendly words were exchanged. I asked them if it was ok to play, and then encouraged them to tidy up the mess they had made all around the table. They looked a little sheepish. Whatever.

We pressed on with the game. We weren’t the only Sunday lunchtime locals enjoying the facilities. A rare game of boules was taking place on the recently installed court.

The wind picked up and it became more favourable for boules players than table tennis hopefuls. My playing partner blew me away with a predictable 3-2 victory.