It's been a strange couple of weeks for things Scots. First I saw Prometheus, then the new Snow White, then yesterday Brave—all had Scots themes and characters and references.
Now Andy Murray of Scotland is in the finals. First time a Brit has made it into the Men's since 1938. It's pretty heavy. And he's up against Roger Federer, whom I totally dig. Who cares who wins you know?
Virginia Wade won as a kid. My mum wouldn't want you to know she once beat Virginia Wade when she was being all about tennis as a late teen...
I've watched Wimbledon since I was five, in part because in England I always lived within a tennis ball's throw of the Club. You could hear the planes going overhead above the house and on the telly. Ooh. And once or twice I saw people like McEnroe getting out of some car up the street.
That 1980 final between Borg and McEnroe remains one of the most outrageously beautiful things I've ever seen. Tennis is like gladiatorial combat.
For the record, I am shite at it.
And my last name is Scots. Fancifully, to romance ears, it means Town of Death. : )