Business end of Wimbledon
My husband Paul and I watched Johana Konta beat Sloane Stephens to be that rare lesser spotted specimen, a British woman in the second week. I debated whether to put British in inverted commas as she holds three passports – Australian, Hungarian and British.
Phil and I don’t agree on everything but we both admire her long legs, especially me as at school I was given the cruel nickname of “busty stumpy” as I was short with broad calves and generous bosom.
As Ann Jones will confirm, the latter can be a handicap as retrieval of the ball in the corner of the court is more difficult. Johana has the grace and elegance, though not the trophy cabinet, of Steffi Graf. I rather like too her fusion of looks, a broad Slavic face with high cheek bones with a tall, willowy slender Angelo-Saxon figure and those legs that go on forever. Some commentators said after the French Open when she beat Sloane Stephens in the quarters but was well beaten in the semis Johana now has more grit.
She has beaten Sloane Stephens four times this year but so her only one win in 4 encounters with her next opponent Petra Kvitova. I can’t see her winning.
And what of the phenomenon that is Coco Gauff?
Fifteen and in her first Wimbledon she disposed of Slovenian Polona Hercog.
She has the brutal power of her idols the Williams sisters and an impressive shot selection. I can see her as champion before she turns 18.
The authorities were up their old tricks by ruling that baseball cap with a blue border contravened the dress code.
Ours is a Remain household and after we heard the Ann Widdicombe rant and the turning of the back on the euro anthem at the European Parliament we despaired that Colonel Blimp asserting his Britishness over Johnny Foreigner will be an unhappy feature of our future landscape … and little will change in SW19.
