Nearly never made the preview which would have been a bad precedent. Have been trying to get the boy to sleep. He's got a new bed. The child craves a daddy's hug. But a daddy's frame is not meant to crunch into the bed. Well I did my time and am now stretching out the affllicted limb as I type.
Off down to Plessis Robinson in the morn. I looked to get there by public transport but in the end gave up and phoned up a team mate whom I shall meet at Porte de Montreuil at 8.30am.
Bad news on the tennis front. Dear old Roger went down in three sets at the Masters in Shanghai. Despite the fact that he's very clearly injured I still found it hard to take.
Just cannot see him doing brilliantly next year. The youngsters are on the rise and he'll never win Roland Garros. I was there on Thursday night for the launch of an exhibiton about Venus Williams.
A photographer has taken her in various poses and the results are daubed over a section of the Tenniseum. The photographer Koto Bolofo was very jolly and he spoke at length about the experiences. I'm going to do a piece for this weekend and might even extend it as a Christmas feature.
That's what I call enterprising. Shame it's too late to go and watch Star Trek.
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