“I Love You. But I Love Wimbledon More.”

Question:
Which is more important, your grandchildren or the tennis at Wimbledon?

Answer for 99.9% of grandparents:
Your grandchildren. What a silly question.

Answer for my mother:
Tennis. Dur!

Note the lack of advertising.  Nice, isn’t it?

Mum is visiting from Sydney. It’s fantastic, I love being able to see her every day.

Of course she is here to see us. But it’s no coincidence it just happens to be when Wimbledon is on.

She’s a huge tennis fan, so she’s in her element. On the days when she doesn’t have a ticket, she’s watching it live on TV. She loves the fact she doesn’t have to stay up all night to do so, as she does in Sydney.

I’m glad for her. Really, I am. But it’s become clear that family is rating a close second at the moment.

“Mum, do you want to come with Darling Girl and I to playgroup?”
“Is there a TV?”
“No.”
“No thanks. I’ll stay here and watch the tennis on TV.”

“Mum, Darling Boy would love you to read him a story.”
“Is it about tennis?”
“No. It’s about a Gruffalo.”
“Does the Gruffalo play tennis?”
“No.”
“No thanks. I’ll stay here and watch the tennis on TV.”

“Mum, would you like to come with us to the park?”
“When you say ‘park’ do you mean the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club, situated on Wimbledon Park Road, Wimbledon?”
“No.”
“No thanks. I’ll stay here and watch the tennis on TV…noooooo….did you see that?! She just cheered when her opponent served a double fault! That’s not tennis! **sudden intake of breath** And in front of Cliff Richard!

“Mum! Darling Boy is explaining the periodic table of elements, and he’s only 4!”
“I can’t stand Maria Sharapova. All that grunting.”
“Mum, did you hear me? Oh look, Darling Girl has cured the common cold…”
“I wonder if many of the female players are lesbians? It’s that grunting that has me wondering.”
“Ummmm…. not sure what grunting has to do with lesbians, but OK…”
“But you’ve got to hand it to Sharapova, she does has lovely broad shoulders.”

See what I mean?

I like this photo so thought I’d insert it here.

Anyway. Here I am being interviewed after a very close match.  It’s a photo of a photo, but you get the idea.

“Mid 30s, talk us through the game.”
“Well, I hit the ball to her.  She hit the ball to me.  I hit the ball to her…”

And now for the best bit: this is Mum.  No-one has ever had more fun at the tennis, ever.

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