Death's door.

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No, not really, just a cold, but as a man I am suffering way more than anyone else who's ever had a cold ever in the world. Ever.

So, I'm back down to earth with a bump. After the dizzying heights of tennis success, it's back to domestic routines. Suffice to say, my tennis has also taken a severe downturn. On a positive note, my friend Adam pointed out that I must have got my training spot on to peak at the right time.

I went to be background scenery at the presentation of official paralympic training venue status to Brunel university last week, and it's just as well I did. Were it not for myself and three other wheelchair tennis players, there would have been no sporting activity of any kind for the cameras. As it was, we were reduced to hitting foam balls over a lowered badminton net, in order to provide something sporty for them to film.Hurrah for 2012!

My latest Ouch column just went up today (ouch!). Inevitably, it is on the subject (ouch!) of pain (ouch!). It had to come up sooner or later, so I thought I'd just get it over with. Still no developments in terms of finding any improvement, although I'm sure that being active helps to keep it at a more manageable level.

 It seems like one distraction after another so far this month, as P had jury service for two weeks to start. Many people have asked if she couldn't have got out of it, but from my own point of view, were I ever in front of a jury, I would hope that it was comprised of people who would be as considered and fair-minded as she. It's a funny thing jury service. We, most of us, see trial by jury as a vital part of our legal system and a benchmark of justice. But when it comes to being selected to take our place, we consider it an unpleasant chore and try to duck it. Which leaves who exactly?  people who are not canny enough to dodge it, or have nothing better to do?

This said, P did point out that they could make the whole experience less painful. Simply improving the area where jurors are required to spend many long hours waiting to be called would be a start. Maybe a juice bar?  Or some books and magazines? And perhaps old reruns of Crown Court showing on big screens to get people in the mood.  Apparently the jury box wasn't wheelchair accessible either...

Now my focus is on planning our possibly foolhardy camping trip in France later in the summer.  But then, if we're going to holiday with a wheelchair user and a toddler, it seems only natural to want to include a language barrier in the equation. Still, it will be a huge box to tick, and testament to the little ways in which my experiences on the BackUp multi-activity course have helped me to view things like camping with less anxiety.

Finally, I thought I'd best slip in a mention of the football, especially after tonight's demolition of the Italians by Holland. Did I mention my grandmother was Dutch? Now would be a very good time to read David Winner's most excellent book on Dutch football, called Brilliant Orange...

Ah well. Back to the tissues and throat pastilles. Nurse! Nurse! I'm fading fast! etc.

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