<\/p>\n

Whimsy on a Wednesday!<\/b>
\nBringing you sneaky missions, misguided smashes, and the joys of hitting things with rackets<\/i><\/h2>\n

I\u2019m in the Big Smoke (But Don\u2019t Ask Why)<\/b><\/h4>\n

Yes, yes, I know, how very metropolitan of me. I\u2019m in London. Laandan Taaan.<\/i>\u00a0The Big Smoke. The city where pigeons are unionised, black cabs know everything, and a latte can set you back more than a small mortgage.<\/p>\n

Why am I here, you ask?
\nWell, I could<\/i> tell you but then I\u2019d have to have you dramatically written out of this blog and I\u2019m rather fond of you. Let\u2019s just say it involves celebrities, high-level secrets, possible cloak-and-dagger antics, and a lot of me nodding in agreement and pretending to know who everyone is.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s very<\/i> exciting.
\nI can\u2019t say more. Just know this: I\u2019m doing something mysterious and potentially fabulous while looking like I\u2019ve just stepped off the Northern Line in a swirl of chaos and Dior J’Adore.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The Curious Case of Walking Tennis (Yes, Really)<\/b><\/h4>\n

In other, significantly more pedestrian news\u2014literally\u2014I\u2019ve had a go at something called \u201cwalking tennis.\u201d Yes. Walking<\/i>. And tennis<\/i>. Together. Like fish and bicycles. Or politicians and truth. I spotted the notice while out on one of my walks, pinned to a gate like some sort of grassroots Hogwarts invitation. \u201cCome and try walking tennis,\u201d it said, in cheerful type. How could I possibly resist?<\/p>\n

As someone who likes a bit of a racket-based sport (in both senses) and who enjoys exercise with a vague chance of glory and a clear winner (me, preferably), I thought I\u2019d give it a bash.<\/p>\n

False Advertising and Wimbledon Trauma<\/b><\/h4>\n

Now, imagine my surprise when I arrived to find that the \u201cwalking\u201d part is purely theoretical. No one was walking<\/i>. In fact, everyone seemed to be ex-tennis pros or possibly undercover scouts from the actual Wimbledon. There was nothing leisurely about it from my POV.<\/p>\n

My first attempt at returning the ball resulted in me spinning like a Whirling Dervish and completely missing it. After many<\/del> a few more misses and nearly giving up, I began launching it over the fence, past the car park, and possibly into a Ryanair flight path. There is a chance it\u2019s now in Belgium. And this, my friends, is where my teenage Wimbledon dreams came flooding back. The short-lived ones that died the moment I realised serious tennis meant no clubbing, no lie-ins, no summers in Benidorm, and a life of spinach smoothies and strict coaches shouting, \u201cAgain!\u201d on Christmas morning.
\nSame thing happened with the violin. The tutor said I\u2019d never make the Philharmonic in under a year so I quit. I\u2019m not built for prolonged dedication. I\u2019m more of a \u201ctry it for a week, get bored, move on\u201d kind of person. You can spend a lot of wasted time on things and I don\u2019t have the mental capacity to feign interest for long.<\/p>\n

Game, Set, Pain<\/b><\/h4>\n

BUT, despite my dramatic start I started hitting it in the actual court\u2026 eventually. A minor miracle. I even got a compliment. The lady running the group told me I had \u201ca lovely slice.\u201d I assumed she meant Victoria Sponge, but no, apparently it\u2019s a tennis thing. Who knew?<\/p>\n

The sun was shining. No one yelled at me. I felt free, fabulous, and shockingly semi-competent.<\/p>\n

So naturally, I did what I always do when I like a thing. I didn\u2019t leave when the session ended. I stayed. For two more hours. By the end, I\u2019d joined the club, ordered a racket off Amazon, and started mentally curating my Serena Williams outfit (so far I\u2019ve got the earrings and the attitude, working on the rest).<\/p>\n

I\u2019m in. Fully. Hooked. Obsessed. Addicted.
\nI would\u2019ve played every night this week if it weren\u2019t for this top-secret London event I\u2019m currently navigating in between, coffees, vin-de-spesh, and grinning devilishly at famous people.<\/p>\n

(Also, I couldn’t actually walk for a day and a half afterwards. But I waddled heroically.)<\/p>\n

The Takeaway?<\/b><\/h4>\n

Sometimes you just need to say yes to something that sounds absurd. Try the thing. Have a bash. Be terrible. Then get slightly better. Maybe even love it.
\nThat\u2019s what whimsy is, after all.<\/p>\n

Anyway, off I go. I\u2019ve got a secret mash up in a posh suburb and a tennis ball to retrieve from a nearby postal code.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This week on Whimsy on a Wednesday, I\u2019m dodging celebrities in London and smashing tennis balls into the stratosphere as I attempt the baffling art of \u201cwalking tennis.\u201d Spoiler: there was very little walking.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3085],"tags":[502,4152,4153,4154,4155,4156,4157,4158,4159,4160],"class_list":["post-7005","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-whimsy-on-a-wednesday","tag-whimsy-on-a-wednesday","tag-british-humour-blog","tag-walking-tennis","tag-london-blog","tag-funny-sports-story","tag-whimsical-blog","tag-beginner-tennis","tag-british-satire","tag-lifestyle-humour","tag-tennis-obsession"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n