‘Wild Wednesday’, ‘Wacky Wednesday’, ‘Wednesday Wipe-out’ – whatever you call it, our Wimbledon Wednesday had all the elements of the best of Shakespeare.
Both tragedy and comedy were never far away yesterday as player after player succumbed to the dangers of the turf and inexplicable bouts of heavy breathing.
I myself had a fortunate escape due to a combination of physical and biological elements. A storm reminiscent of The Tempest and a gastric bug bringing about another type of tempest deep in the bowels of my unfortunate opponent (Pendos Pendalivski, Montenegran, Court 28 #unbelievableresult in case you are still catching up).
Not only was I victorious in the most unlikely of circumstances, I also feel vindicated in my views on the perils of playing on grass (nota bene, woman chairman of club tennis section, nota bene), so I approach today with a clear sense of destiny and purpose.
Shakespeare is clearly walking the hallowed turf of Wimbledon this week, hanging out in the locker room with the guys and I suspect he will have a ringside seat at my match with the Slovenian, Jack deLadd, later today.
To coin a phrase of the famous 1960s Supermarionation show, Stingray, ‘Anything can happen in the next half hour – and probably will.’
Jack, Novak (D) and Hubert (H): you have been warned.