We are in the middle of Wimbledon Fortnight, and like every year, I find myself watching tennis. I’m not big on sports, but there are some major tournaments that I like to tune into. Wimbledon is one, the Olympics is another, and a few more.
I enjoy the days I work from home, doing things on my laptop while I watch two sweaty men grunting as they hit their bright yellow balls. I wonder why it grabs my attention!
Every year, when Wimbledon starts, I get an idea to write a story about it, specifically about the ball boys. Every year, it sparks my brain, and a story drifts in my imagination. But every year, it’s too late. I can’t get a story written and edited quickly, especially when I have another story on the go that demands my attention. So, alas, there is no tennis story this year, yet again.
One day, I will write it. Those ball boys are very adept at handling balls. It’s a story that teases me every year, and one day, I hope to tease you all with it. Until that day arrives, enjoy Wimbledon, the white dress code that hints at what is underneath, the unreliable British weather and perhaps some Pimms or strawberries and cream.
