… the 2 weeks every year where everyone (sweeping generalisation) in the UK becomes an armchair tennis expert, and the media go into hyper-drive when British players reach the 2nd week, and positively catatonic should they reach the semi’s or the final itself.
In all honesty I love Wimbledon, always have done.
When I was little I wanted to be a ball girl at the championships, but unfortunately I didn’t live in the vicinity of SW19 or go to school there!
I do play tennis, although I haven’t picked up a racket in years, unless you can count carrying SC’s to his tennis lessons!
And being a girl, of course the best bit of watching men’s tennis is the close-up shot of their backsides as they get ready to return a serve. Choosing a top backside would be very difficult, mmmm, possibly a toss-up between Stefan Edberg and Pat Cash though.
As for this year’s tournament, well it is literally anyone’s guess – especially with all the injuries, players have been dropping like flies.
I reckon though the men’s final will be between Djokovic and Murray (hopefully with a Murray win – if nothing more than to shut the press up for the next 73 years!)
Women’s competition, Serena Williams looks favourite.
Such a busy weekend lies ahead – Wimbledon, British Grand Prix, and possibly more importantly the new series of Top Gear on Sunday – excited? I am 😉
This poem by Dorothy Parker is lovely. This poem beautifully expresses how we feel when we lose something we wanted.
A Dream Lies Dead
A dream lies dead here. May you softly go
Before this place, and turn away your eyes,
Nor seek to know the look of that which dies
Importuning life for life. Walk not in woe,
But, for a little, let your step be slow.
And, of your mercy, be not sweetly wise
With words of hope and Spring and tenderer skies.
A dream lies dead; and this all mourners know:
Whenever one drifted petal leaves the tree-
Though white of bloom as it had been before
And proudly waitful of fecundity-
One little loveliness can be no more;
And so must Beauty bow her imperfect head
Because a dream has joined the wistful dead!
…or is this just me?
I happened to walk into the living room whilst my dad was watching the Spain -v- Italy match on television. The camera panned to the Italian manager (Cesare Prandelli) and I said that I didn’t realise that the guy who plays Bob Hope in Emmerdale had another job.
Now is it just me, or does anyone else think they have a striking resemblance?
What other unlikely combinations do you think could have been separated at birth?
R.E.S.P.E.C.T. find out what it means to me – goes the song.
Well first and foremost I believe we have to respect ourselves. If we don’t no one else will.
I believe we should respect our elders, be they teachers, superiors at work, or even just the little old lady at the bus stop. That’s what I was brought up to think and I shiver at the thought that children these days are not being brought up to respect their elders.
If, as parents, we do not teach our children to automatically respect their elders (not necessarily because they are their betters, but because they happen to be older and perhaps more wise in the ways of the world) we are perhaps failing in our parental duties by sending out the signal that children demand automatic respect from adults and that adults have to earn that respect rather than the other way around.
I remember at secondary school (and this was only in the 80s) having to stand up as soon as the teacher walked in the room. It was an automatic, no questions asked, response and certainly the thought that the teacher had to earn our respect before we would stand up for them never crossed our minds. And yet a couple of years ago I remember some hoo-ha in the paper about a boy being suspended from school because he had refused to stand up when a teacher walked in (the new head had just instilled this as a school rule) and the father (probably about my age) rather than agreeing with the head sided with his son saying teachers needed to earn respect.
And when it comes to relationships I firmly believe we need to respect our partners and would like to think that a good relationship was one that is:
“Mummy, I know how rainbows are made?” said SC as we were in the car yesterday.
“How’s that then?” I replied, wondering whether I would be stunned by his physics knowledge about refracting light through raindrops, etc.
“There’s glue in the sky!”
“I’m sorry, did you say there’s blue in the sky?” I asked, as he had mumbled beneath the din of the CD which at the time was playing “Rock the Casbah” (one of his favourites) and I wasn’t sure what he had said.
“No mummy, there’s glue in the sky, and then what happens is all the raindrops stick to the glue and make a rainbow.”
What a lovely thought, why didn’t I think of that? 😉