Chapter 4: When Mary met Intel Powered VW Beetle Herbie Lawford
Heart Man was back on the court in 1880, up against Herbert Lawford, which went down in history as the tennis equivalent of the Battle of Salamis (480 BC), famous for depicting the smaller Greek force defeating the much larger Persian force.
It was my much smaller Wolfsburg stockbroker macho moustache wearing human asset lover, Herbie, the ‘Greek-German’ of English heritage, that impressed my excruciatingly feminine over-qualified yet highly trained in the arts of subtle Mexican etiquette, sense of desire, the most.
John Hartley the Persian may have won the Wimbledon Championships in 1880, but Herbie won my national Swiss cheese caseus helveticus award, reserved only for the most desirable of Fievel Goes West hunky mice strongest man contestants.
Herbie’s Lawford forehand produced so much rotational topspin, that I fantasised about so many what ifs, that there was no hesitation in my mind… After Hartley gave my Herbie number 53 a good thrashing, I congratulated Heart Man, and then took Lawford by the hand, and expressed in the most physically symbolic way conceivably imaginable, how being number 2, can sometimes mean being the boss in the bed chamber of Lady Wimbledon’s Rose & Crown pub, conveniently located very near Marryat Road, the easiest route to take if you want to get to The All England Lawn Tennis Club from Wimbledon Village. It has a great view of London’s skyline too, as you descend Marryat’s hill.
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