From the bushes at Motspur Park


This morning I biked to Worcester Park where I had hoped to get our laptop repaired. Unfortunately the shop had succumbed to the recession and a door shop was there instead.

I biked home via Motspur Park to see what I might see over the fence, and lo’ and behold, there were AJ, Orlando Sa and Rafik Halliche training in a small group. Purgatory? Recovery? Super-keenery? Who knows? But there they were.

And then I went, whizzing through suburbia, back to our little flat in Tooting. On the way I saw one of those roadside furniture shops and aside from all the chairs and desks they had a machine that fires dozens of tennis balls in quick succession. If only, I thought. You could adapt that and play cricket. Or just tip it so they fire upwards and practice catching. Or fire them through a window at people whose cars are playing music so loud that the street vibrates. So many choices.

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