The Problem With Wimbledon

This evening's news told me that today has, for a great portion of the UK, been the hottest day of the year. Not for the portion I'm in. While many people have been frolicking around in the sunshine, I've been sat in my room, watching it rain. Thanks, Devon.

Luckily I'm not really the type of person who wants to spend as much time as possible in the great outdoors, for one thing my eyes can't cope with it. If there's even a hint of sunshine, I have to whack some sunglasses on. If for some inexplicable reason I don't have some on me, it's all I can do to wonder around places squinting. To passers by I either look very suspicious of everything, or downright weird. So, instead of enjoying this year's slight glimmer of Summer, I've just sat in my house watching Wimbledon.

It's been a week now, and I'm still not sure how I feel about Wimbledon. Tennis is a sport that can be quite exciting to watch, but at other times it can be painful, especially if you're watching Venus Williams. How anyone can take themselves seriously making that much noise playing tennis, while wearing a hideous playsuit in the process, is completely beyond me. Of course, you can argue that Venus Williams is one of the most successful tennis players in the sport's history, she can yelp as much as she wants when she hits the ball. I would agree with you, but that still doesn't excuse her clothing.

Anyway, the tennis has been fantastic for the most part. It's not the play that bothers me though. It's Wimbledon itself. I don't often get irritated by crowds at sporting events, but Wimbledon is different. I don't like their tone. I can't stand the gasps every time a player dives about the court, I can't stand the laughter every time someone does something that doesn't make them look like a robot with nothing on their mind but playing tennis, even their clapping sounds more highbrow than mine. I'm already irritated, and that's just the noises they make.

Once you start seeing crowd cutaways, the irritable feeling dies down a bit when you realise that a lot of the people are probably just like you. Then you see a drunk middle-aged woman with Union Jack flags all over the place and it comes back, only this time a little bit more painful.

I think my reason for this general feeling of disdain towards the viewing masses at Wimbledon is Tim Henman. Henman is notoriously British, both in voice and in his profession. He was never going to be the best, but everyone gets behind him and shouts 'Come on, Tim' after every single point and all of a sudden people started to believe he might actually do something. Then they get disappointed when he goes crashing out in the quarter-finals (a bit like the football team). I'm scarred by those 'Come on, Tim' chants from middle aged women who didn't know whether they wanted to mother him or sleep with him. I don't think I'm ever going to forget them either.

However, shout 'Come on Tim' in front of Andy Murray and I will find it hilarious, even if he doesn't. That sort of humour sums Wimbledon up really, along with the strawberries, the cream, the Pimms, the rain. It's too British, and that's probably why I get so irritated by it. Having said that, I will be watching the coverage all day tomorrow, and probably every day after that until it ends on Sunday, because that's the sort of person I am.