I’m still getting over the excitement and drama of watching the amazing Andy Murray win at Wimbledon on Sunday. What an astonishing sporting triumph, for once I was able to sit and watch a Brit in a major sporting event without feeling the need to hold my breath and watch with only one eye open from behind the sofa. The whole warmth and atmosphere left me feeling very homesick, try as I might I just can’t get as excited about how well the Canucks do in the Stanley Cup. I’d also like to take this moment to mention another remarkable achievement – Kim Sears’ hair, truly phenomenal, it’s almost superhuman, anyone else’s locks would have wilted in the heat, the sight of her glossy mane nearly distracted me from the tennis, I think it ought to be nominated for Sports Personality of the Year.
Apparently Andy Murray started playing tennis aged five, this gives me about two years to spot any hidden world conquering talents Casper may have – so far I’m floundering, unless toy scattering or bed time procrastination counts. I feel terribly guilty for not having the insight to spot something outstanding in my child. Though if I did I’d probably then feel guilty for being too ‘pushy’ – there is a fine line between nurturing your child’s undeniable talent and just being a pushy parent. Judy Murray got it right, the mum I encountered recently forcing her tearful overweight tutu clad five year old into a drama class perhaps didn’t.
(Quick note to my boys though – if you ever achieve anything, from winning Wimbledon to the Kitsilano under 7 tiddlywink championships and you forget to hug me immediately after, your lives will not be worth living.)
Someone who makes me less proud to be British is the horrendous Katie Hopkins, I am loathed to even give the former reality show contestant the satisfaction of writing about her but just can’t stop myself. After watching (like nearly 11 million other people) the You Tube clip of her on This Morning I haven’t felt the same bile rising up within me since I clapped my eyes on the similar clip of Samantha I’m Just Too Damn Beautiful Brick.
Just in case you’re one of the four people on the planet who hasn’t seen it here it is…
With names like Casper and Theo (though perhaps Katie would prefer if I just referred to him as Theodore) I imagine my children would sneak it onto Katie’s ‘good boy’ list and if they were ever to become friends with Katie’s poor children I would gladly have them round to tea and let mine go to Katie’s house too – despite the fact I find their mother an insufferably ignorant human being, but I would not hold that against her poor children. I feel genuinely sorry for them and hope they rebel in the most explosive way possible in their teenage years, go full gothic, total body tattoos, face piercings, or better still really shock their mother and become nice, rounded, non-judgmental human beings with a wide circle of good friends from a variety of backgrounds.