Courting DISASTER

Tennis — with muffins and a free dental check

- JOY GOSNEY

Open wide,’ said Marion, which was something of a surprise. Marion is indeed a dentist, but she retired five years ago. What’s more, we were just about to play tennis on the council courts in the park.

‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Your gums were looking a funny colour, but now I’ve had a closer look, it’s beetroot, isn’t it?’

I should explain that Mr Dear has started drinking beetroot juice ‘for his blood’ and said I should try it. To nobody’s great astonishment, it tasted exactly like beetroot. Only stronger.

Anyway, back to the tennis. There are four of us who play regularly. You have already met Marion, who is rather good and delivers a cold, hard stare with every service.

The other good player is Amanda, who used to play for her school in the days when the rackets were wooden and the girls would play in corsets, or something like that.

Then there is Lesley and me. Even during Be Kind To People Called Lesley and Rosemary Month, nobody would suggest that we are any good at tennis.

In my case, I think I’m only allowed to play because I bring muffins to eat when we’ve finished.