In the
UK I used to play tennis at least once a week with a group of fantastic
friends. (When I say ‘play tennis’ we
didn’t really let the game get in the way of a good conversation and spent
longer having coffees afterwards than we did on the actual match). Since moving here I am regularly to be seen
with a tennis racket in hand but that is only to lob the ball as far down the
garden as possible for the dog to retrieve, but I really missed playing
properly. Recently I met a lovely ‘old’
(in his 70s I guess) man at an apero evening in the village and he said that he
and his friends often had to play as a threesome so would I like to join
them. I now find myself an honorary
member of a men’s tennis 4 and it is the highlight of my week.
The
first time I played I was extremely rusty but they were very patient and
recognised occasional flashes of brilliance (!) so invited me to continue with
them every week. Personally I think it
is because they are so thrilled to find a woman who doesn’t speak much – I am
pretty fluent in french and the words for ‘yours’ ‘mine’ and ‘out’ were
easy but I have never before needed to know the words for ‘tramlines’ and the
first time one of them shouted ‘recule’ at me I thought he was being rude, but
now I know it means ‘run back’!
I have
just played again this afternoon and have learned a lot of new french words - none of them to do with tennis, but I am also
giving them a crash course in swearing in English! As none of them speak a word of the language so
will never read this, I can introduce
you to l’equipe:
Here is
Francis who always reminds me of Alec Guinness in The Ladykillers. He is tall and skinny and is always
accompanied by his very old dog who limps around the outside
of the court. I dread the day he decides
to wear shorts!
This is
Janou, who I always think of as Benny Hill when he dressed as the boy-scout
(with the fetching socks and shorts outfit).
He looks like a typically grizzly french farmer but is very kind and can
run much faster than you can imagine!
Jean-Jacques
wears more jewellery than I do and spends much of the game announcing the
score, wrongly and always in his favour.
He is quite short so when you lob him he just stands there and calls for
a ladder.
And
finally Joel, who has the perfect outfit for every occasion and brings several
changes of caps and sunglasses, selecting just the right accessory depending on
which side of the court he is playing!
So, all
very different from the group of attractive female friends I used to play with,
and the setting is world’s apart too. Playing
on a hard-court under a bright blue sky, with the Pyrénées in the background
and the Mediterranean just visible on the horizon, and hearing the clanks and
thuds of a vicious game of petanque being played on the dusty car park, makes
my years of playing on an indoor carpeted court at David Lloyd just a distant
memory (but a very good one!).
It
seems strange to me that even the scruffiest looking villages have such excellent
sports facilities, but I am very much enjoying taking advantage of it and have just paid my annual membership fee to the
club – 40 euros!
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