To the Table of Dreams! Under fading light!

The window of opportunity for these hit and miss knock ups is diminishing. We are accelerating towards the Winter Solstice. Wiff waffle under candle light is a little woeful.

There was just enough time to get a best of five games in. At 3-1 down I had already accepted defeat and was ready to walk.

Must we really play a fifth game?

MUST WE?

Oh go on then. For shit ‘n’ giggles.

Time to experiment with some spin. Some you win, some you lose. I usually lose, tbh.

I was a little distracted with people watching, rather than ping pong. Playing outdoors in a public park is a great opportunity to capture the daily back and forth movements of folk.

It also coincided with the return of the early morning commuters, back in the town, just as the Estuary Wilds sun was setting.

You don’t get many table tennis daytime opportunities when you’re stuck in the 9-5, Comrades.

“You really are the most HORRID child.”

Steady the buffers, Madam.

Some poor little ankle biter was receiving a stern ticking off in the nearby playground, just as I was being BATTERED with bat and ball.

I had the luxury to walk. The poor kid didn’t.

To the Table of Dreams!

The Estuary Wilds sun and dry weather was for once too good to resist. It was our first outdoor game in a couple of weeks.

Wellies were worn. Which is something that you are unlikely to see at an Olympic wiff waff gold medal game.

They were needed as well.

Worms casting were at each end of the table. This wasn’t a firm foundation for a serious game.

We opted for the uniform ball, rather than the extra heavy wind design. This allowed me to arse around with spin.

It also allowed me to come close to taking each game, only to showboat with silly spin, and not quite take the glory.

Still, the spin looked cool as fuck YEAH?

The bloody Church bells kicked in. This seriously put me off.

STFU etc.

A 3-2 defeat.

It’s like I’ve never been away.