Well, if I was not a nervous wreck by this morning, then I am now. I am exhausted, my throat is sore, I have lost my voice and I keep repeating over and over again Come on Tim. Why? Well, it is THAT time of year again, the time when we Brits don our optimistic smiles, our Union Jacks, silly hats and turn into a nation of nutters for two weeks. Yes it is Wimbledon fortnight which I adore and have done since I first watched Margaret Court beat Maria Bueno in the ladies final on the Centre Court back in 1960 (I think). I had slept out all night and was so totally exhausted the next day that by the time the match started, I could barely keep my eyes open. In the 60s and 70s I went to Wimbledon every year and saw all the great names play: Laver, Rosewall, Lew Hoad, Newcombe, Roche, Emerson, Stolle, Connors and then later Borg, McEnroe - fantastic. To be on the Centre Court at the end of a lovely summer's day watching a men's or a mixed doubles being played was, without doubt, one of the most English and lovely of all pleasures you can ever experience. Now I watch in comfort from my sofa where my shrieking antics are thankfully private.
Tonight Tim Henman and Carlos Moyet played an absolute blinder of a match, simply stunning tennis, terrific rallies and edge of the seat moments. It still had not finished at 9.15pm and in the end they had to come off as it was getting dark and there was no guarantee that they could finish it. It was a fabulous way to finish off the first day and I feel as if I have watched a final already.
I was going to write all sorts of things today about books I have read etc but am so shattered by it all, the above will have to suffice. Except, Boiled Eggs. Nan asked me how did we eat the eggs in my egg cups shown earlier and when she asked this question, it suddenly struck me that every time I have been in the USA, I have never had a boiled egg. Scrambled, fried sunny side up or over easy, omelette yes but never a boiled egg.
Jan Jones left instructions on how to cook them and said that an egg must be accompanied by slices of toast or bread and butter which are known over here as 'soldiers'. They are nursery food and I have lost count of the times my children, when small, had this for their tea. As I have another egg cup to display and as I was having a boiled egg for my breakfast this morning I took a picture and here it is Nan especially for you
This egg was slightly over done so I put a dollop of butter on the top to melt in. There are two schools of thought about taking off the top off the egg. Some people like to bash them with their spoon and then peel the shell away. As the egg is hot, this can be a bit dangerous. I am of the other school which thinks the best way is just to take a knife and slice it off and then eat the top bit with your spoon (you can just see the empty shell off the top of this egg lurking in the background). Then if the egg is nice and runny, you dip your soldiers in and they come out nice and eggy and yummy.
This is a 1930s egg cup - another 10p buy and I think it is beautiful.
I am now off to bed. I am physically and emotionally exhausted after watching Our Tim. I really wish he would just win his matches in three straight sets and not put us through this, but he never has and it is a bit late in the day for him to start now.
It's all too much to bear....
