I was delighted to see Sir Andy Murray shake off his hip injury and ease his way into the second week of Wimbledon Fortnight to help keep the British flag fluttering over SW19.
Well done too to Johanna Konta for being the first lady Brit to reach the last four since Virginia Wade in 1978.
Even although she was actually born in Australia of Hungarian parents, Konta not Wade I mean, in my view she is obviously as British as Murray who is only referred to as Scottish by the English Press when he loses.
Anyway, ‘Oor Andy’ is the world’s number one male player on merit at the moment and, by all accounts, a true ambassador of the sport – a winner on it with his skill and power – and a winner off it with his easy-going charm and relaxed attitude.
A ‘Great Scot’ in every sense of the word, no wonder he was knighted!
Even if I say it myself, and with all modesty of course, I had a certain ability with bat and ball in my youth which might have blossomed had I stayed away from the lager and cigarettes.
Apparently I was gifted with pretty impressive ‘hand and eye’ co-ordination, which is a good thing if you require to keep track of something coming at you at speed and intend to whack it back with even more speed with, of course, the unerring ‘thread through the eye of a needle’ accuracy our hero from Dunblane produces relentlessly.
When I was growing up people queued to play tennis at the Lido in Stenhousemuir. While it is gone, Dollar Park and Grangemouth now have excellent facilities and all we need for the air to resonate once again with the cry of ‘new balls please’ is the kind of summers we used to enjoy when the sun shone from the end of May until the end of August.