To the Table of Dreams! On a very hot Bank Holiday Monday. We made the strategic decision to play with the non-wind ball. The reason being, there was no bloody wind around. Job’s a good ‘un.

A bit of a knock around warm-up started. It was the usual corner to corner let’s TWAT the ball around AND live out our semi-pro table tennis dreams. Good luck with that one. It was far too warm for a decent warm-up and so we headed straight into the game.

Hang on, something’s not quite right here. The non-wind ball wasn’t bouncing very well. We had a brain wave: I remembered that the non-wind ball was packed away many months ago because it’s not actually a ball.

It has been squashed around so much it bounces in an irregular fashion, which can be quite a major factor when you’re playing table tennis, either semi-pro or even as park amateurs.

My concentration, as ever, was sketchy. The heat didn’t really help. I lost 4-1. Oh dear.

To the Table of Dreams! …on Sunday morning. It already started to heat up as we made our way through the public car park and on to the field. The local running group had regathered, all hot and sweaty after a morning of trying to beat the heat. Good luck, as they say, with that one.

Our own warm up was rubbish. Once again we aimed for the pro-style corner to corner continuous rally, TWATTING the ball with an increased intensity after every shot. It looks impressive if you can pull it off. We managed a rally of three shots max.

Time to crack on with the actual game, before the blue skies up above completely burned all energy out of us. It was most tranquil for the first three games. I raced to a 3-0 lead. The bloody Church bells then kicked in. They put me off my stroke. I called time whilst I was still 3-2 ahead.

We rocked up at the Table of Dreams, only to find a father sitting on it, and his son stomping around on the table and metallic net. wtf.

The little shit was taking great delight in jumping up and down. He wasn’t challenged over his behaviour. The entitled, middle-class tosser.

I strode up, expecting a confrontation. Instead they both disappeared. SEE YA. Don’t come back, etc. Some people.

This messed with my mind. As did the wind. I tried to play a power game. This was not an afternoon for spin. I succeeded, to an extent. A 5-1 defeat is not as deflating at it might sound. I did push her all the way. Yep.

We waited for a break in the Estuary Wilds rain before heading out to the Table of Dreams on Thursday. We very much welcome the rain - we’ve got a new roof that needs rain-testing. But let us get in a game of wiff waffle first, yeah?

It was hit and miss. It was also bloody cold. The table itself had a puddle in one corner. The tactic was to aim for the puddle, and kill the ping pong ball stone dead. Best laid plans, etc.

I raced to a 2-1 lead. I walked away with a 3-2 defeat. It’s all about consistency.

There were a few distractions on Saturday morning down at the Table of Dreams. The Town Council was setting up for the post-AGM activities. This involved a tent thing with some booming bass coming out. I bloody LOVE booming bass, me. Especially so if there is some drum prefixing it. Not so when it is crappy pop music.

Whatever. We pressed on with the game of wiff waff. There was bright blue skies above, I had the sun on my back. Life was good, and so was my first game. 1-0 up. GEDDIN. Twenty minutes later and I walked away with a 4-1 defeat. Oh dear.

A game of power over spin at the Table of Dreams for Tuesday afternoon. The earlier pleasant spring weather had turned. It was a little breezy out there. Arseing around with fancy spin shots in no way to keep warm. TWAT it and keep your body moving.

My extra strength somehow led to a surprise 3-2 win. There was talk of playing on to see if my partner could come back in the game. BALLS to that. Quit whilst you’re ahead. I even managed to celebrate with a Drop the Bat moment.

A weird game of Wiff Waff at the Table of Dreams for Sunday morning. Another couple were already playing when we rocked up. GOOD EFFORT, etc. We decided to take a slight detour and wander around the park for a short while. There was plenty of activity.

SHOUT OUT Weird Wiv Town Council, who in-between attempting to piss off ‘activists’ (erm, residents) by cutting down trees and closing community bicycle kitchens, have actually done something half decent. The new outdoor gym at the top of the field is finally open.

We spent ten minutes or so putting ourselves through the various workouts. Some of the equipment seems to be aimed at the top end of the fitness market. The settings are all wrong. I’m no peak Gym Bunny, but I should be able to lift the bench press and dips machines. Nope. Oh well.

Elsewhere and a game of boules was breaking out on the new court by the Table of Dreams. A young mother was setting up a Bank Holiday outdoor party, with plenty of games, party bags etc. Good luck, Madam.

We had around ten minutes of play on the Table of Dreams before I had to bugger off. We decided to focus on the warm up, inspired by our visit to the World Champs earlier in the week. We were both in awe of the elite players as they warmed up with speed rallies of a forehand and backhand to opposite sides of the table.

Spoiler: it’s not as easy as it looks.

To the Copper Box! …on Tuesday morning for Day 1 of the World Table Tennis Championships. To say that I have been CREAMING myself over this over the past few months is something of an understatement. It may only be the qualifiers for the World Champs, but WOH. These guys play a slightly different variation of the game that we arse around with at the Table of Dreams.

First things first: time to smuggle some food into the Copper Box. The usual crappy Ticketmaster FAQ’s had strict instructions about no food, no drink, bag search bollocks, etc. Arse. It will come as no surprise to read that I’m not the type of fella that is going to pay £15 for a crappy dirty burger within the Arena.

I was loaded up with THREE bars of Lidl’s finest milk chocolate - one of which was a freebie via the app - all tucked away and concealed in places where you really shouldn’t be hiding away chocolate. I hope they don’t melt. The Milky Bars are on me, etc.. I needn’t have worried. The bag search was minimal; there was no body patting down.

We took up our seats in the Copper Box. Seating was unreserved. Shortly after 11am we had the choice of seats for pretty much anywhere in the arena. The event was a little, ahem, undersold. The real action for the World Champs starts over at Wembley Arena in a week’s time. But that’s a right arse on the other side of town for us to get to.

In front of us was twelve courts stretching out around the Copper Box. The first decision was to choose which game to focus on. It soon became clear that multi-screen viewing habits had trained my eyes well. I could follow two - possibly three - games simultaneously. As long as the players weren’t serving at the same time, then my brain wasn’t overloaded.

This was a completely different style of play to what I am use to. Even the warm ups were a little manic. The players were so young as well. It’s frightening to think that they must spend around half their day twatting a wiff waff ball back and forth to achieve their levels of skills. I get a little bored after twenty minutes.

There was some weird observations going off. Some of the players were using hexagonal bats. Blimey. A bit of online snooping later in the day explained how this is now a thing within the sport. There was also the very odd - and almost universal - tactic of the players placing their palm on the table by the net ahead of every shot. I think I’m at home with OCD wiff waff.

We were booked in for the full day of play. This involved two separate sessions. The evening session was scheduled to end at 11pm. I was pretty much done by 7pm, and made my excuses. It was a decent day out, and great to see the skill and variations in play that I don’t normally get to witness.

To the Table of Dreams! …on Sunday morning. We made our way down the side of the park, and past the grand old King George Oak - the one that the local Town Council has a pathological desire to fell. It looked radiant in early spring. It should survive far longer than the questionable mandate of those hell bent on bringing it down. So there.

There was plenty of wind to rattle the old branches and fresh leaves on the tree. Which all meant that we opted for the heavier wind ball. I was finding it hard to find my length on the table, having played indoors mainly throughout the past month.

A couple rocked up next to us to play a game of boules. This is the first time that we have seen the court being used. Respect.

The game itself was the usual one way traffic. Some of the local birds were busy up above, nattering away and making a right old bloody racket. That’s the reason I’m giving for a 4-1 defeat.

Another game of table tennis to start the new working-ish week. The smell of blossom was intense as we made our way over to the Table of Dreams. Every flower, bush and tree in the local area is extremely hormonal right now.

We opted for the non-wind ball on what felt like the first day of the summer. It was short-sleeved weather. I opted for style with my Brixton Lion Vibes sweatshirt. Never let it be said that I suffer for my looks.

The non-wind ball was suffering however. It was bouncing unevenly across the table. A quick ball inspection and, oh, it looks more like a rugby ball. That’s the reason I’m giving today for my 5-0 BATTERING.