I have a confession to make. It’s very odd, but for the first year ever, since I was about 11, I have no interest in Wimbledon. I don’t know why this is: it could be the football which means the BBC have given it less than their usual dedicated coverage; or the fact that Murray is out much sooner than he ought to have been – whatever the reason I have seen a few matches but it has failed to excite me. To understand just how weird this is, you have to realise that Wimbledon has been a feature of my calendar every single year since 1966. I have only missed a couple: once when I was living Up North and didn’t have a TV, and once when I was living in Madrid and only had access to channels like TVE 1 and Telecinco. Every channel in Spain has adverts on; and the news is so frenetic you can’t follow it at all, never mind the sport. Which reminds me, have you ever tried listening to the tennis on the radio? It’s something else. By the time they’ve described a back-hand cross-court volley with top-spin which lands just short of the baseline, about three more shots have been played. Weird.
Today I have been mostly… finishing off my memoir. Yay! I have now reached the requisite 50,000 words (that’s about 150 pages) and have reached it in about six weeks starting from a base of 6000. Now begins the work of revising… Still I think I shall give it a rest for a week or two as I have to do my tax return and reapply for tax credits. Joy.
Have a good weekend. We shall be going to the cathedral to see the new garden and to Serenity, a Sci-fi event, on Sunday where I shall be poeting.
Kirk out
Sarada Gray 