Game. Set. And match.

Tis not all that often that I play tennis. But yesterday I decided to venture out on to a tennis court and practise the old backhand with a work colleague.

What a jolly sight it must have been, watching me run around the court like an excited puppy, panting and sweating profusely. I haven't played the gentleman's game in almost three years, but that is hardly any reason for my 'opponent' to get all up in my face about it. Just be happy I smacked it over the net, fellow!

I must admit, rather modestly, that my backhand is quite dynamite. It's the forehand that needs a lot of work.

I finally got the hint that my opponent, a work colleague, was getting rather annoyed at me when he started shooting balls across the court that came whizzing past me at speeds that would make a race car envious.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm rather buggered," I yelped across the court. He was most happy.

Off we trotted to grab some refreshment as my mouth was drier than a camel's underfoot.

Today, I can feel the pain of strained muscles in parts of my body I never imagined ever did a day of work. My thighs are on fire, and my lower back makes me feel as though I'm 70 years old. Time to hang up the racquet, put away those fuzzy green balls and stick to a nice, relaxing game of tennis. Online.