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Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Some people think Andy Murray is the only decent tennis player we have in this country. Those people are wrong...

You might notice a mysterious haze surrounding me as I power my way to victory. That's the fog of war. Or possibly there was a smudge on the camera lens. Either way, it just goes to show that being built like a hippo, and rarely topping speeds of 2mph, is no bar to sporting success. I'd also like to make it clear that the camp manner in which I throw my arms into the air and celebrate, does not indicate that it was the only point I won. I actually won loads. We just didn't get any of them on film.

Anyhoo, my consummate command of a frisbee in Queen's Park on Monday was clearly enough to inspire us on to further sporting triumphs, so we headed over to East Brighton Park yesterday afternoon for a game of tennis. As you can see, I was the only one who bothered dressing for the occasion, which is probably why I did so well. I regret not holding my stomach in more though. I don't think white is the most slimming colour.

My niece, who sadly refused to be filmed, has been having weekly tennis lessons for the past year, and the results were plain to see. Frankly if she continues to progress like this, she'll be winning trophies in no time. Probably the same kind she's already won for swimming.

After all that exertion (and a distinct lack of strawberries & cream), my brother took his family back to Essex, and Lisa and I made our way to Lewes for our second HypnoBirthing class. I learnt a massage technique developed for MS sufferers, which apparently produces natural endorphins more powerful than morphine, as well as being given a list of phrases to say to Lisa when I want her to relax. Oddly, the list didn't include the one sentence guaranteed to make her feel better ("I've bought a six-pack of Frazzles and they're all yours"), but I can probably write it in later.

My one disappointment was that us fathers had to remain seated on chairs while the mothers sprawled about on the floor with pillows. It's sexual equality gone mad. I wish I hadn't taken my duvet now. But on the bright side, we did get a leaflet of nutritional advice for producing a happy, healthy baby. It contained the following guidelines:

"Eliminate ALL unnecessary fat, fast foods and fried foods - particularly French Fries. Avoid carbonated drinks; NEVER drink diet drinks, caffeine or alcohol."

Lisa read it whilst drinking a cup of coffee, and then asked if we could go to McDonalds on the way home. She said it all hinged on the word 'unnecessary'.