Robots and winners

When was the last time one cried for having to leave London at a weekend for two days on a beautiful sailing boat in the south of France? Actually, last week, when the mother of my children gave me an ultimatum to come down or else. Why, oh why, are women so unreasonable? Just because I was having a grand old time and going to all the parties during the last week of June, I suddenly had to do penance and spend the weekend like some American husband who failed to wash up in the kitchen. Sitting on a boat and dreaming about what I was missing back in the capital made Taki a very dull boy. But truth be told, never had I seen London more pleasant. Beautiful weather, lotsa parties, wonderful tennis and an important football match coming up, and I had to sit on a boat surrounded by horrible vulgarians on the Riviera. I would have been better off going to Belfast on a rainy Sunday evening in November.

But come first thing Monday I was back. In time to see the Greek Cypriot Baghdatis teach a sharp lesson to Andy Murray of ‘anyone but England’ infamy. What amazed me was the Centre Court crowd of elderly ladies and men screeching for the Scotsman. Let’s put it this way. Had Baghdatis said ‘anyone but Greece’ two years ago, when we won the European Cup, he would never have got a Greek to cheer for him ever again. But here we had a full Centre Court urging on Murray as if he were Saint George and the Cypriot a dragon. Mind you, it could have been a joke, and even if it weren’t, Murray is still very young; my only wish is for him not to open his mouth like a hippo every time he hits a winner.