V e r i t a s . S o p h i a . I u s t i t i a

Nothing to do with my John Milton extravaganza, which- don't wanna spoil it for all you eager scouts for the Next Big Thing in art, me obviously- will be an absolute barn-burning masterpiece of harrowing epic proportions, below are the humble shoe paintings of the art teacher, a demo for my girls, who will be painting similar Converse shoes (motif: local flora, N.E. thing... teachers will understand) for an upcoming exhibition in August.

One more day to the start of Roland Garros, the second leg of the four majors in the world of tennis. The 64 seeded players in the singles draw would no doubt have arrived to find their spacious wardrobes in the seeded locker rooms, ritzy as ever, embossed with their names on brass plates. Reminds me of Wimbledon '01, when the good old fellas at the All England Club invited wildcard finalist Goran Ivanisevic to use the exclusive seeded lounge before the final, only for the Croat to politely refuse. He came in with the common folk and preferred to stay in the gully. Of course he then went on to beat Patrick Rafter in arguably the most exciting and emotional final Wimbledon has ever witnessed and finally got his name engraved on that precious trophy after coming so close three times before.

We're missing some big names in this year's tournament, notably Andy Murray, the sulky teen from Scotland who honed his game on the clay courts of Barcelona and could've made a deep run here if it wasn't for a bum wrist, Martina Hingis, a hip and back injury preventing her from taking a shot at the only big title that's eluded her, home favorite Tatiana Golovin is out with injury as if the underachieving Tommy Haas. Kim Clijsters is off getting wed, and will be sorely missed, but we've still got an excellent tournament lined up, so here goes nothing...

Gentlemen, start your engines...

Looking at the draw, I'd be surprised if top seed Roger Federer even dropped a set en-route to the quarterfinals. Yes, he could face former champion Juan Carlos Ferrero in the third round, but the J.C. of today is not the same guy everyone was sure would inherit the crown of Gustavo Kuerten some five years ago, and Federer won't likely break a sweat against him. If anything, the mighty Swiss might be more concerned about facing the 13th ranked Russian Mikhail Youzhny, who's been showing some good form lately. Marat Safin and Ivan Ljubicic loom in the same quarter, and so does Filippo Volandri the Italian who humiliated Federer in Rome. If they should meet, expect Federer to wipe the court with the Italian this time. I'm seeing Federer versus Ljubicic in the first quarterfinal.

Moving on to the second quarter, 4th seed Nikolay Davydenko could see his run at this year's French cut short in the third round by the talented Spaniard Nicolas Almagro, who's been waiting for a major breakout for the past two seasons. Unless Davydenko finds his groove in time for that battle and nails the corners with his typically unspectacular but deadly consistent groundstrokes, I really cannot see him surviving the big-hitting teenager from Spain. David Nalbandian, seeded 15, is usually a lock for the semis at the French, but is caught at the moment in an inexplicably dire slump, and is ripe for an upset, which is a real shame, cos he's one of the most complete players to have played the game since Andre Agassi, but I'd be surprised to see him last two rounds at this year's competition. I'd love to see Richard Gasquet, a.k.a. Baby Federer, match his all-court prowess and that sweet, sweet backhand against Guillermo Canas' endless retrieving in round 3; the smart money's on the more consistent Argentine, though let's not forget Gasquet will have the home crowd behind him. I'm going Almagro versus Gonzalez in this quarter.

Novak Djokovic, seeded 6th, has got the best draw among the top players. With the exception of a potential long-drawn affair in the fourth round against 12th ranked David Ferrer, the rest of the guys in his route to the quarters are a list of nobodies. Querrey? Patience? Ginepri? C'mon. You gotta show poor Marcos Baghdatis some love though. The surprise Aussie Open finalist from last year with the megawatt smile has been having a nightmare season thus far, and christ, he must have cringed to see his name drawn against the veteran home favorite Sebastien Grosjean. Somebody up there clearly doesn't like the chirpy Cypriot as much as we do. But, Baghdatis CAN take some consolation in the fact that he's NOT got the absolute worst first round draw in his quarter. That dubious honor goes to American 3rd seed Andy Roddick. He faces Russian Igor Andreev, who, until a week ago was the answer to Rafael Nadal. Good luck, A-Rod. I hear Paris is pretty this time of the year. My bet for for quarters here- Djovokic versus...tough one, but I'm gonna go out on a limp here- Paul Henri Mathieu.

Final quarter. Okay, the 31 guys whose names are NOT Rafael Nadal can book their flights back to wherever they came from. Or go to England. Start preparing for Wimby. Nice of them to drop by, but still, it's really a formality, isn't it? But just hang on a second... there are actually some pretty damn good players in Rafa's quarter. Carlos Moya for one. Champion in 1998. Can't count him out. Tomas Berdych, who, outside of clay, has got Rafa's number in recent years. And Lleyton Hewitt, who tenderized the Spanish world number two for Federer in Hamburg. 8th seed James Blake is going to be eaten alive by Ivo Karlovic in round one, but beyond that, Rafa's actually got the toughest draw in the tournament. Juan Martin Del Potro, his first round opponent, is an up-and-coming teenager from Argentina, Tim Henman is a former semi-finalist here, Gaston Gaudio the French Open champion in 2004... well, we're gonna see just how tough Rafa is, this time. I'm going for Berdych versus Nadal in the quarters.

Ladies, show 'em what you've got...

The guy who picked the names out of the rolling thingy for the draw... he needs to be shot. Or at least put in a soundproof chamber with a couple of heavily tattooed bruisers. Serena Williams and Justine Henin in the quarterfinals?! C'mon... Okay, let's look at this rationally. Justine's gonna destroy Elena Vesnina in round one, Aiko Nakamura in round two, Yaroslava Shvedova in round three and Li Na in round four. She's lose maybe 10 games along the way. Serena's gonna decimate Tsvetana Pironskova for starters, then send Virginie Razzano wondering if she should switch careers in round two. She'll toy with Michaella Krajicek next and maybe practice her volleys with Francesca Schiavone in the fourth round. A no brainer. Henin versus Williams. And whoever wins this one will go on to win the whole damn thing.

Now here's some excitement in the second quarter. Jelena Jankovic, the Serb who's been hogging the headlines leading up to the French, is seeded 4th here with a potential third round encounter with the increasingly unflappable Venus Williams. Jankovic is bordering on annoyingly smug at the moment. Indeed, I haven't seen a teenager blow her own trumpet this loud since Hingis' mouth was in championship form, and I'd love for nothing better than to see her upset, nay, destroyed by the elder Williams. But dreams are dreams. The trash-talking Serb in three sets. Once she's gotten past Venus though, she'll be up against either a very good clay court player from Russia- 11th seeded Nadia Petrova-, or the latest Nick Bolletieri issue- 6th ranked Nicole Vaidisova. I'm going for Petrova on this one.

A highlight of the second round in the third quarter could well be a tussle between Ana Ivanovic, recent champion at Berlin and seeded 7th and India's favorite daughter Sania Mirza. Looks good on paper. On Lenglen Court, Ivanovic steamrolls Mirza. Moving on, We're looking at a potential fourth rounder between Ana and Daniela Hantuchova. The photographers will have a field day, but it's really a toss-up. Dani's improved her forehand tremendously and her win at Indian Wells has restored her self-belief. Ana did win the German Open though and can overpower Hantuchova. I'll have to roll the dice on this one and go for Ivanovic. But only just. In the bottom half of this quarter is the only former champion besides Henin and Williams- Anastasia Myskina. Once ranked number two in the world, the volatile Russian has been a train-wreck lately, but it'd be nice to see her shrug off the one-slam wonder tag for at least one tournament and really take it to Svetlana Kuznetsova in the second round. Still, Ivanovic versus Kuzzie for this one.

Last quarter of the women's draw, and Amelie Mauresmo, if sane, will reach the semifinal. If not, any old Laura Granville or Nicole Pratt could well collect a valuable scalp. Fingers crossed, Momo keeps her head screwed on tight. Still, Lucie Safarova, the Czech 25th seed, could legitimately upset Mauresmo, as could 9th seeded Anna Chakvetadze, whose clever angles and powers of anticipation remind one of Martina Hingis. Patty Schnyder's beaten Serena and Hingis on clay this year and cannot be discounted, but her loopy groundstrokes are target practice for the big hiters, and they don't come any bigger than 2nd seeded Maria Sharapova. Shazza's once formidable serve has gone AWOL and it's now common knowledge she doesn't have a Plan B once Plan A- smack the ball like it owes you money- isn't working. Sheer grit will get her through to the quarters, but she'll have to hope Momo has a major meltdown to advance any further.

Practicum is over and all of a sudden, it seems everything is just falling into place. It has been a good three years almost since I graduated and the wait to enter the working world is finally over! Maybe it sounds insane, this euphoric drive to begin a career, but I mean, those three damn years have felt like an eternity spent in limbo, in a time capsule of barren infertility. I've been doing my National Service. I'm a trainee teacher at NIE. Finally, I'm actually gonna NOT be in transit anymore. I'm clearing customs, gonna step out and step up, and I feel pumped. I am well pleased with the school I've been posted to; I've got relatively more freedom to develop my own curriculum than a lot of my peers going to other schools, and while I don't mean to snivel at the standard of work in the school I'm headed to, there is a lot of work to be done in the fullness of time, and I'm well up to the job. In the meantime, I'm having a break now... well, technically, I'm skipping a compulsory course on how to teach Civics and Moral Education conducted by a tutor so vacuous I cannot even be bothered to attend and therefore destroy her... and my head, my head is just so clear. All the tension, the stain that's been bludgeoning my mind into arrant exhaustion is dispersed, and all that is left is this clarity of mind, distilled into five things- art, music, literature, my professional potentiality, and my beloved nephew. Nothing else matters, couldn't matter anymore if I wanted it to. I've two books to read- Alan Hollinghurst's The Swimming Pool Library, which is, thus far, exceptional, and Michael Cunningham's A Home At the End of the World. I am also trying to piece together a programme on visual culture, its definitions, concepts and contexts for teaching next term, I've got Douglas Hofstadter's Godel, Escher, Bach keeping me company in the evenings, and yesterday, two splendid buys at HMV. And most decisively, the nadir of this newfound clarity... I don't feel like I am thinking when I am painting. I have Milton's Paradise Lost Book 1, and a large wooden cog my dad picked up from a dump and I've primed it and there it is, for my empty, empty mind, I've pined for long for it, to take its long-awaited leap of faith.

Hmm, why does it surprise people that I am a reality-TV junkie? Okay, so I draw the line at Big Brother, which is a colossal waste of time, but I do enjoy The Apprentice, So You Think You Can Dance, American Idol, Fear Factor, Survivor, The Amazing Race, you name it. I mean, at the end of a 12-hour workday, I really cannot follow a show that requires me to even faintly attempt to cogitate in any way whatsoever...

So anyhow, it's the American Idol finale this wednesday and the Kodak theater is all set for a battle royale between a funky white boy and a uber-polished seventeen-year old. I'd hoped for a Blake-Melinda final but well, it's still a notch up from last season, when against all that is lucid and rational, three truly genuinely talented singers- Paris Bennett, Chris Daughtry and Elliot Yamin- found themselves edged out of the final by the karaoke king and queen of the competition... Hands up those who bought Taylor Hicks' or Katharine McPhee's albums? Now hands up those who bought Daughtry? That's what I'm saying...

From a purely musical standpoint, it should be puzzling that Jordin Sparks should be in the final instead of Melinda Doolittle, especially since Jordin was pretty bland in the semis while Melinda was positively possessed by Tina Turner when she belted I'm a Woman (sing it, W-O-M-A-N!), but I guess it was no surprise Jordin got the vote and not Melinda. Can you imagine Tina Turner winning AI? Neither can I. And of course, Jordin fits the AI cookie cutter better than Melinda- like that catchy little Mambo No. 5, she's a little bit of Kelly in your life, a little bit of Carrie on the side, a little bit of Katharine in the sun...

Jordin will win American Idol. I don't think there's any doubt about that. She looks the part, and c'mon, she's been watching the show since she was, what, twelve? Little Miss Sunshine's all grown up and ready. And something tells me she didn't learn her moves from Grandpa. At seventeen, she's a pro on how to win 'em voters. Big hair, big smile, a little bit of that beauty pageant thing goin' on... but still, Blake Lewis has been my favorite since he did 311's All Mixed Up. He says he never watched AI before joining the competition, and you are tempted to believe him if only because he doesn't do the cutesy "call me" Bambi looks when Ryan Seacrest is announcing the numbers. But damn if he doesn't rock the house every time he hits the stage. AI's seen its share of Buble crooners, Aretha-lites and Whitney-wannabes, but he's one of the rare real deals the show has discovered, a musician who has taken his musical influences and created a style he's really comfortable with. A little like Carrie Underwood and Chris Daughtry. If Carrie was nouveau Martina McBride and Daughtry was Creed reborn, then Blake's on his way to becoming a healthy synthesis of Jamiroquai and Maroon 5, the latter a band he was friends with before they hit the big time. His take on Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name is already a lock for the next American Idol highlights DVD and boy did he nail Maroon 5 and Robin Thicke in the semifinal. So belt it Jordin come Wednesday, you know you're the prom queen so shed those tears cos you know they like to see 'em, and to Blake, well, screw it man, just play that funky music, white boy!

Well, things are heating up. Just when it seemed Roger Federer's confidence had dipped enough to make a Rafael Nadal three-peat at Roland Garros a no-brainer, the world number one has gone and struck two off his critics' checklist of slump symptoms. First, he's won a tournament. Which he has not done for... a little while. He's back. And he's not about to forget how good it feels to win. Second, he's beaten Nadal on clay, and at a week before the French Open, the best time possibly for a confidence boost for himself and for putting a few doubts in the Spaniard's mind, especially since Nadal only managed two games against the Swiss after winning the first set in the Hamburg masters final...

So the forecast for Roland Garros has changed, indeed it has almost been reordered in a single match. Federer's back from his April hiatus and whatever doubts he may have had in recent weeks concerning his ability to win the French Open this year will have, if not been dispelled completely, are at least assuaged. The race for the calendar slam is ON. And with Federer's win over Nadal on the red dirt, we can at last describe their battle for supremacy as a legitimate rivalry. Make no mistakes though. Rafa's not about to just hand the title of King of Clay over to the Swiss maestro. For someone as intense as this bullfighter, his pre-match comments that it didn't matter if he won or lost the Hamburg final, that he was sufficiently prepared for his title defence at the French, made it quite clear he was ready to, to put it bluntly, tank the match to conserve his energy.

Compared to Federer, who lost early in Rome, Nadal has played a ton of matches in the run-up to the French, and the toll on his mind and body told in his matches at Hamburg. And while an 80-plus winning streak looks good on a resume, he may well be relieved to relieved of that lofty burden before he runs another streak of seven at Roland Garros. Whatever the case, the Hamburg final has made this year's French Open very, very interesting. The anticipation for a Federer-Nadal final is greater than it was last year, for unlike before, when it seemed Federer himself did not seem to believe he could beat Nadal, he now knows he can and he'll be going into the final against his nemesis with his A game knowing he's won the last time they played on clay. I'm getting ahead of myself of course, but unless Federer gets Guillermo Canas in his quarter, is anyone betting on anyone other than Fed and Rafa being in the final?

Nadal though is as close to a Spartan warrior as you can get in tennis, and he's mentally way too tough to let a single loss get to his head. If anything, I actually think the loss will compel him to even greater focus and intent at Roland Garros. There's a lot of bragging rights at stake here. One wants the slam, the other wants revenge. Federer, his Nadal-phobia assauged at last, firing freely versus Nadal, more tenacious and dogged than ever, his lefty topspin forehand out for blood. The stage is set. Bring it on.

My picks for Roland Garros:

The guys

1. Rafael Nadal - You can't bet against a man who won 81 straight matches on the surface and has never lost at Roland Garros.

2. Roger Federer- The last man to beat Rafa on clay and let's face it, the only man who can do it.

3. Novak Djokovic- If Rafa and Fed did not exist, Djokovic would stroll to the title. But they do, and one of them will stop the Djoker in the semifinals.

4. Nikolay Davydenko- He's struggled a little this year but has been consistently making the quarters and semis of the majors for the last couple of years.

5. Fernando Gonzalez- Based solely on his recent form and newfound control of that monster forehand, Gonzo should advance to week two at the French. But he won't get past Rafa or the Fed. Actually, no one will.

Others to watch for:

Guillermo Canas- His ability to send back would-be winners is second only to Rafa, but he's also ten years older than the young Spaniard and I'm not sure he can stand seven best-of-five matches. Still, someone who's beaten Federer twice in two weeks has to be in the mix.

Lleyton Hewitt- No longer the force he was in 2001-2, these days, he tends to sneak quietly through the draw before bowing out to the top players, but not without a mighty fight.

The ladies:

1. Justine Henin- 3 Roland Garros titles in four years. You can be 5-0 up against her in the final set and she'll still find a way to beat you. Tough as nails, this one, about the closest to a Rafael Nadal on clay as you get in the women's tour. Expect her to take a month off to recover afterwards though...

2. Serena Williams- Clay is not her favorite surface, not by a mile, but she is still a former champion, and that tells you something. When Serena is on, she is unbeatble, no matter what the surface.

3. Jelena Jankovic- Jankovic has been making big leaps up the women's rankings since the end of last year and has beaten all the top tenners bar Justine Henin. And even then, she's had the world number one on the ropes every time they've played. Expect her to stick around at the end.

4. Svetlana Kuznetsova- When Kuzzie's off, she's frustratingly pedestrian, but when she's on and that sledgehammer forehand is on fire, you realize why she won the US Open. She finally found a way to beat Justine this year but Jankovic has got her number now. I don't think she'll reach the final again this year, but she's pretty much a lock for at least the semis.

5. Ana Ivanovic- Ivanovic is the new Lindsay Davenport. She is the cleanest hitter among the up-and-comers and strikes the fuzz off the ball like good old Lindsay used to. Plus, she moves better than Davenport ever did. Still, like the amiable American, there are questions about her ability to go for the kill when she's got her opponent pinned down.

Others to watch for:

Amelie Mauresmo- Let the psychodrama that is Momo at the French begin! She's had a torrid clay court season so far and never does as well as she should at her home major. But still, alongside Henin and Hingis, she's one of the most elegant players on the circuit and if her head's screwed on tight, she's definitely a major threat.

Venus Williams- I was thinking Shazza or Daniela, but the former's nursing an injury... and her ego after winning a measly 5 games in two matches against Serena; Daniela meanwhile has a nasty habit of losing matches she should win. Sure, Venus hasn't beaten a top player this year, but like her sister, she loves being the underdog on a big stage and anyone who watched her go from zero to hero(ine) at Wimbledon '05 would know better than to count the elder Williams out.

Roland Garros is a fortnight away and Roger Federer, chasing that elusive French Open crown that would complete his collection of Grand Slam titles, cannot have chosen a worse time to suffer a slump in form. At the start of the year, he appeared more invincible than ever, stretching his winning streak to a whooping 41 matches, including capturing the Australian Open title for the third time, and without dropping a set. With his chief nemesis Rafael Nadal in an 8-month title draught and having his biceps handed to him by guys like Mikhail Youzhny and Fernando Gonzalez, Federer would have had cause to think this would be the year he'd finally end all the Greatest Of All Time debates. He'd already beaten Nadal twice (at Wimbledon and in the Masters Cup), suggesting he had, at long last, figured out the Spanish bullfighter, the way he'd deconstructed other players like Lleyton Hewitt and David Nalbandian who had troubled him in the past.

All that the mighty Swiss had to do was to mantain his form and hope Nadal maintained his, but that all turned around terrifically at the Masters at Indian Wells. Federer had his winning streak shredded in straight sets by the tenacious Guillermo Canas, a player who'd just returned to the tour after a 15 month doping suspension while Nadal snapped his losing streak to clinch the title. The highlight of the Spaniard's powerful run to the title was his victory over Andy Roddick in the semifinal. Jimmy Connors had coached Roddick out of a hole to the US Open final last year and the young American looked a legitimate threat to uproot Nadal as the second-best player in the world. Instead, it was Rafael, playing more aggressively than we'd ever seen, who completely ripped Roddick apart in the semifinal, highlighting the gap between the top two players in the world and the rest of the field.

How swiftly the tables turn. In the beginning of Spring, Federer looked more unbeatable than ever, while Nadal seemed to be losing his edge. By the end of the tournament at Indian Wells, it was Nadal who was holding all the winning cards and Federer whose head was hanging and shoulders slouched. The two met in the final of the Masters at Monte Carlo, and whatever notions there had been that Federer had finally solved the Rafa puzzle were extinguished as the King of Clay demolished the Swiss in little over an hour. Nadal would go on to win a record third straight Rome Masters title the next week while the not-so-mighty Fed would find himself ousted in the early rounds by journeyman Filippo Volandri.

There's still time for Federer to regroup- he is still the second-best player on clay, but the signs are ominous. He's fired his coach, always a sure sign of desperation, and it's rather a jaw-dropper in itself to say that the normally unflappable Federer could be desperate. His loss to Nadal at Monte Carlo showed that he'd not only not managed to close the gap between him and the Spaniard on clay but that the gulf between them had grown. Nadal's winning streak on clay has grown to 79 at the time of writing, and armed with a heavier serve and a lefty top-spin forehand that's more penetrating than ever, even matches you'd expect to be close have been routine for him. That streak will end eventually, though God knows when, but if any player should end it, I think everyone would like the mighty Fed to be the one. But let's not get ahead of ourselves. Federer's lost his mojo for now and has two weeks to get his groove back.

I don't know when it was that I just became a lodger in your house, it stopped being mine years ago, and everything's changed so much there are barely traces I've lived here all my life. I guess it's just one of those gradual things. Repaving over the footprints we secretly knew were ours. I have my little nook in this corner of the house now, but really, I haven't been around for years, five years changed everything, more thoroughly than I liked to think it did, but it did, and all that moonshine about blood and water, I am embarrassed to even admit I did come home because of that. But thing is, right now, I realize that no one would notice for months, years even, if ever, if I were to fly back to London tonight. No one here, and certainly no one there. Except you. cos we live in the same house. But even you wouldn't notice for a couple of days. Then you'd cleanly forget as well. And that's okay, no hard feelings, cos you're just a week's paid leave from work when you die anyway. And then I'd cry for a bit. Once I thought my life would end if yours ever did. But really, that was a long, long time ago. let's just stop pretending.

Uncommonly fine day, I find myself in high spirits, and it's baffling but I'm loving it. Rough night last night at the end of a rough day, but it wasn't too bad at the end of it all, mad dash to the finish line but no one's in my box or in the stands. Watching the lady in green with a violin tucked under her chin, her countenance in ashen shadow, hard to read what she's thinking, it's disquieting. Floozy. Mute. Hushed, indistinct, then faintly audible, tranquil, then sleepy and now. Anna Carem or Astrud Gilberto, can't tell which it was, but she was singing a song so smooth they call it easy-listening, and I was lying there on a sand dune, shades, sun ablaze but no heat, a palm spring in the distance in my mind. Peel slowly and see. It's a pink banana, yikes, and there's some good songs in there. Three bears and a little drummer boy, one of 'em used to be his favorite, but it was the only one he didn't take when he left. Mimi, come, fetch, boboy, he says into the receiver. He's a keeper. He doesn't say bye to me, but waves to Pheebs, bye bye wo-wo. I ask him where my bye-bye is, and he says something, can't make out what, but he wiggles in my dad's arms and he laughs. And so the day is okay. Time lapses like a set of dominoes. in slow motion, they tumble over and over to the beat of Nina Simone crooning, crooning, because you're mine, bass, bass, and more bass. and they turn to ash, like banished vampyres on a tacky TV show. Smoke and mirrors, you never know. It's a golden honeyed trap. Goodnight, and good morning.