Authors Electric

If you’re no longer in the first flush of youth but still hanker after picking up that old tennis racket, I can heartily recommend it.  But as you step onto the court for the first time, you may well have a sense of foreboding, especially if, like me, you’ve spent the years in between trying to hit a smaller and harder (but crucially stationary) ball on the boundless fairways of a golf course.  You will discover your legs still work - but not at any speed. You do have a degree of hand-eye coordination - but everything around you happens too fast. When you eventually make contact the ball can go anywhere - but never where you need it to go (a bit like golf, then!) That vital connection between thought and action has gone, leaving you looking very sheepish as you lumber forward when the ball has already bounced twice, or optimistically shouting ‘great shot’ for something cruising past you at moderate speed. Suburban tennis - bliss! However, you’ve had the luc...

As far as I know, I only have one Pony Club Diary in my possession, so I apologise for the slightly misleading title of the post, and also to anyone who thought this would be written in the style of Jilly Cooper. I haven't ever belonged to the Pony Club, although I grew up in a village where I'm sure some people did, and I don't know how I came to own one of their diaries, complete with horse care hints and tips. I can only surmise that someone in the family gave me this one as a joke, because of my long-standing aspiration to go pony-trekking during family holidays instead of playing golf or at least following my parents round golf courses morning, noon and night. I had forgotten about the diary until I inadvertently unearthed it the other day while moving some board game boxes about in a vain attempt to make room for my new printer. This storehouse of memories was in a bag of odds and ends that I vaguely remember collecting when we were clearing out my mother's...