As part of his midlife crisis Mr W, my boyfriend, has joined a local tennis club to relive the glory of his youth, when he once lost narrowly to someone who’d once taken two games off Andrew Castle.
It was a couple of months before he realised that he had in fact joined a gay tennis club, one that even had the distinction of having supplied most of the British tennis team for the Sydney Gay Olympics. Success breeds success, so the club became a magnet to every strong gay tennis player in London — and Mr W.
Perplexed as to how one club could contain so many young, gym-honed men, he was on the brink of jacking it in, conceding that the game really