So. Netball.
So. Netball. It's just a bunch of girls playing stuck in the mud basketball isn't it? Wrong. Where did my journey begin and where will it end? So my first 'fun' activities day at secondary school encouraged the lanky, six footer of a human that I am, (who always stuck out in the primary school playground queue - parents umming and ahhing at the strange tall kid in the bobble hat who towered over their little pea pods,) to join in. 'Well' said Brooksy, 'I think we can make a netballer out of you.' and so it began.... "Shoot, shoot!" What at? "That tall thing" (the first thing actually taller than me for a change.) OK, so not the best technique and the lanky legs like Bambi causing a few too many trip ups in the first year. What's not to love - freezing fingers, swollen body parts and calves which resemble those belonging to Dumbo's Mum. The cat calling from the 'friendly fire' of the sidelines. 'Well, my Hanna