James and I had an epic series of weekly squash battles that lasted for about a year. We were pretty well matched in our ability and most of our games were very close. I could place shots slightly more deviously than he could, so sometimes I was able to tire him out after a few sets. But he had more strength than me, and sometimes he really found his range and discovered a shot that would put the ball into a corner I just couldn't get to – then he could hit the same shot again and again, and I'd be in real trouble. If we added up all the scores over the entire series, he'd probably have pipped it. But aside from the encounters themselves, and recounting them in painstaking detail to Sarah and Emily, it's the routine that I will remember. Comparing dull days at work on the way there. James carefully placing his watch outside the court so we could see it through the glass, so he could be sure we didn't impinge on anyone else's court time. The warm up, the game, the big handshake afterwards. Comparing weekend plans on the way back.