Tennis

The lesson actually happened this time. Finn and Meg both went and I ran around being ball girl. There were 5 children in the lesson and they all laughed and enjoyed themselves. Especially Meg, who demonstrated a lack of breeding by giggling quietly after whacking the coach in a tender area with her return of the ball. Didn't quite knock him over.
I had hoped that there would be enough people there for them to find tennis partners, but I could see it wasn't quite going to happen, so realised I would have to follow through with my plan to take lessons myself. No point in them hitting great shots and me not being able to return them. So I went back at 6pm. A chance to make friends, I suppose, and there was always the added incentive of the handsome coach. There were 4 very nice ladies there, who had had 3 lessons already, so I had a private session to catch up. A  nice young assistant coach put me through my paces, showing me the techniques, breaking it down for me. Very blooming specific, but I did see that the shots worked, if you did exactly as he said. He kept linking up more and more bits of information - feet position, body, wrist, angle of racquet, following through to the finish position. I thought my brain was going to erupt, especially with trying to keep the smile on my face. He told me I was a natural and that I must have played before. I giggled and blushed.  I assured him I had barely played at all, but had been pretty keen at the time of Bjorn Borg. A flicker of vague recognition at the name, crossed his young face. I was getting quite confident as he put the balls over the net, in my direction. Front hand AND back hand - very nice. So then he took me back to the coach and 4 ladies who were playing a game of doubles with Cool Coach helping to keep the ball in play. My young man told them I was pretty good. DISASTER. Never, ever SAY that!!!  Every ball that came my way, missed my racquet as I flailed my arms around and louped around the court competely ignoring everything I'd just been taught, and feeling quite similar to how I had last night, trying to swat the big angry blue bottle in our bedroom - quite dizzy actually. It was SO much nicer when the balls were being popped over in my direction. I felt sorry for my crestfallen young aide, and I didn't get invited to play on with the nice ladies, after the lesson was finished.
6 lessons to go.