Apparently, grunters and squeelers (sounds like a heavy-metal band!) are to be dealt with at Wimbledon this year...I'm sure we'll hear more on that...but I myself, Peter, have questioned females playing tennis on other grounds - i.e., the strain upon the racket arm; this from a visit to a tournament kicking off just now...

Poem 156 of 230: EASTBOURNE - SUMMER 2001

On the day before the solstice,
    I first sighted Eastbourne:
A beautiful elegant place -
    English culture untorn.

Two long days allowed two long lanes
    To be walked before dark -
One after travel on four trains,
    One post-Devonshire Park.

The first was between sea and heath,
    And gardens signed by post,
Then up the Downs to view, beneath,
    The brutal handsome coast.

The next, contrasting that before,
    Showed all kinds of vessels -
Parked up along the pebbly shore
    And in marina cells.

(But, as for the women's tennis,
    It soon became a qualm -
As I was put-off by what is
    A great strain on their arm.)

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