90 minutes of silence

This should have been up since saturday... ah well

I woke up too early as usual (8:00) but managed to moderate my excitement at the prospect of going to my first tennis coaching in years...which was at noon! After turning around like a caged lion, I finally set off to the Isle of Dogs, to the John Orwell Centre. Believe it or not, I got there at 10:30, and had to wait patiently for my coaching by doing some exercise machines...I probably spent 15 minutes on that cross training machine, then played around with the exercise ball for 30 minutes, pretending to do abs exercises..who am I kidding? Then I discovered the 2 machines that work out the thighs...hmmm I'll be addicted to those. Then soon enough, it was noon and I finally hit some balls, not too impressively but still I was feeling the shots pretty good, given I haven't played since last summer. Ieven hit one long volley in the 15th minute of coaching, which destroyed my strings! Arghhh...had to play with the trainer's racquet for the rest of the hour, under the blazing sun...mind you, the coach brought some sunblock with her...yup, it's a her...showing her black lace bra and everything..seriously..I miss Sibanda!!And the court (yup, the centre has ONE tennis court), is made of bitume, which will destroy my shoes in 2 months. But at least there are only 2 big cracks on ecah side of the net...It was a group lesson (3 students) and the 2 others were...beginners..sniff sniff...so they had to be explained the technique and all...arrrrghh. The only thing the coach told me was to move my feet and run for the balls...as usual...I need to make tennis playing friends............

Then I ended up in Charing Cross road looking for a bus to Oxford Circus, and got a sample of the remnants of the Gay Pride Parade: men with cute buns in electric blue speedos...and they were tanned and fit and very gay..ah well...I didn't have my camera, and lost my camera phone so I can't share that sight here. Also got dragged into a parade of England fans, for the upcoming match against Portugal...

Which brings me to the late afternoon walk up Brick lane, on my way back home:no soul outside walking, except for police officers strolling in pairs every 50m. It was dead silent and all you could hear was the TV commentator. Peeking at the score between the shoulders of the spectators outside looking into the various pubs, the score was 0-0. But the match seemed intense enough and everyone I saw just had their eyes stuck to the screen. I bought a mint magnum on the way (to compensate for my loss of calories earlier at tennis!!!), and the shopkeeper didn't even give me a single glance. The corner indian shop didn't sell any pakora today because football spectators took all the space...I was left without dinner and had to make do with chicken strips from the local joint. And when I finally got home, England had lost by penalty shots...how disgusting...The whole country must be crying now...except the Scots...(no names, promise). And cute Gerrard was lying on the grass, contemplating his tears...I wish I could console him in my arms but i think the German women entertainers would do that...or maybe he'll get a spanking...yay!

All in all, a very nice day spent doing nothing brainy...Tomorrow is another day, hopefully filled with flower pot shopping.