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French Property News - - Expert Advice -

There could be no bet­ter place to be dressed in whites while be­ing hu­mil­i­ated by some 11-year-old sport­ing prodigy

I can’t play ten­nis, through a com­bi­na­tion of cack-hand­ed­ness and sheer lazi­ness, but I can build a crack­ing ten­nis court. My most re­cent, where I am stand­ing, lies among the vine­yards on a hill­top over­look­ing the Dor­dogne val­ley at Berg­erac. Even I could en­joy play­ing here, spend­ing my time be­tween los­ing points and mar­vel­ling at the sur­round­ings. There could be no bet­ter place to be dressed in whites while be­ing hu­mil­i­ated by some 11-year-old sport­ing prodigy. No ex­cuses ei­ther as the sur­face is bil­liard-ta­ble smooth and the white lines crisper than linen in a three-star restau­rant. You could even play in the rain as the wa­ter sim­ply dis­ap­pears through the dark green por­ous con­crete sur­face, and in the sun­shine, its north-south axis means no­body gets blinded by the golden orb set­ting in the west over the grape-laden vines.

We’re go­ing to land­scape the lawns to sweep down el­e­gantly to the court, but I can’t show you a photo of that as the dig­ger driver hasn’t come back yet dammit.

Any­one for ten­nis?

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