Happy Wimbledon, everyone! And commiserations if you’re not a sports fan, because now you really don’t stand a chance. Maybe it’s a good time for a holiday, somewhere without TVs?
You may remember that last year, I took myself off to Turkey, assuming that nothing important would happen in the first three days of Wimbledon, only to miss Nadal, Federer, Tsonga and Sharapova, among others, all going out. So this time I vowed to stay very much in the UK, and not go too far from a TV. And naturally nothing extraordinary happened until today (I won’t say any more in case anyone hasn’t caught up on the action yet).
But who cares if there’s drama? It’s Wimbledon! My favourite of the Grand Slams, because it’s the one I remember watching growing up (maybe I watched the others, but if I did, I don’t remember). And also it gives me an excuse to drink Pimm’s on a regular basis. And unlike the U.S. or Australian Open, I don’t have to stay up till silly o’clock to watch it. Although work does tend to rather get in the way.
Speaking of work, I seem to have become the unofficial Wimbledon expert; people keep coming to me for updates, and to ask if I’ve got tickets this year. Sadly I don’t, and haven’t yet decided if I’m prepared to brave The Queue – although the All England Club’s only just down the road from the office, so I might give it a try. Either way, I’ll be watching most of the tennis on TV, and keeping my fingers crossed that Andy Murray can repeat last year’s heroic feat. Honestly, I don’t see it happening, but then I didn’t expect it last year either – so who knows. And even though most of the other British singles players have gone out, we still have Heather Watson, and lots of Brits still to play in the doubles, so all is not completely lost yet.
Meanwhile, I’ve been out on the tennis court myself a couple of times lately. I’m rubbish at tennis, but it’s good fun and I think I’m getting better at hitting the ball – I just have no control over where it goes, so occasionally I get credit for a brilliant shot that I never intended, and more often my opponent ends up watching as the ball goes sailing over their head and into the next court, narrowly avoiding hitting the small child having a tennis lesson. (I’ve never actually hit the small child, just to be clear.) I also spend two days walking like an old lady afterwards, so I’m not sure I’m quite up to Wimbledon standard just yet.
Maybe next year?