Sunday 4 December 2016

David Robbins: I play tennis just like that old pro Roger. . . Moore, of course!

Published 02/07/2011 | 05:00

If you stand on your tippy-toes and lean to the left, you can just see a row of tennis courts from our bedroom window. You could lean out the window to get a better view, but there's always the danger of "death by stupid act".

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For 50 weeks of the year, the courts are empty. Their nets flutter and billow in the wind and, during the winter months, a slippery green algae grows around the baselines.

But for one glorious fortnight in June, they are alive with activity. The pock-pause-pock sound of old, soft tennis balls being hit back and forth fills the air. My wife and I stand on our tippy-toes and look out the window. "It must be Wimbledon," we say.

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