Due to the latest in a long line of what the medical world terms: shoulder fuckage, I haven’t been allowed to resume my tennis habit. Which is a bummer. I love my tennis. Its my ‘thing’. I don’t gym (I’d rather grow obese gracelessly, with a chocolate eclair in each hand), I don’t swim, I cycle a little but for practical purposes only, I don’t run and I’m not allowed anything else. At my age. I did ‘spin’ once and realised I’d rather go and watch Arsenal with Donald Trump, Nigel Farage and a dozen financial advisors than repeat the experience. Tennis allows me to run around like a mad thing for an hour or two, engaged in enjoyable pursuit. And its fun.

So I had the ‘guided’ steroid jab, I’ve religiously performed all the physio I’ve been given, every day, except last night when I was really drunk after a brilliant party and was blissfully unaware of my arse, elbow or, indeed, shoulder. And yet last week, after being allowed to play ‘gently’ I experienced pain and suffering and general worsening of my right shoulder.

Thus I arrived at a decision. I’m gonna play left-handed. How hard can it be? Rafa Nadal does it. Aussie Johnno does it. The Wolf Man does it. None of them are particularly bright. So I’m gonna do it. I can play bridge left handed. So I went with Mel yesterday for a ‘little try’. And despite it feeling the oddest most unnatural thing in a life full of odd and unnatural things (court case pending), I could actually do it. Hit the ball. Not well, not always and not with too much accuracy, but I could hit it and sometimes even get the it over the net. So I had two thoughts.

Firstly: I can do this. It’ll take a lot of time, it’ll take some lessons, but I can play with my left hand.

And secondly: I’ve got tennis fucking elbow in my left fucking arm. Because ‘tennis elbow’ is nothing to do with tennis. Other than stopping you playing. Its repetitive strain. Like the million things I have previously used my left arm for, like ‘mousing’ on a computer.

Ironic? That’s one word for it. I can think of many many more. Next week I’ll try with my right foot.

A note to West Ham fans: sometimes life is just like that. Its not always fair, not always as we’d like, it just is what it is. Football as a metaphor for the inherent injustice of life. Don’t despair.

Even though you’re barely above the relegation zone, have a new stadium (stolen) that is proving to be a conceptual Aleppo and you can’t seem to buy a point. Maybe the government or local council can buy one for you with tax-payers money?

Happy Sunday

A xxxx