The Wimbledon nostalgics

Julia and Veronica are on their way to their favourite day of the year: Wimbledon. They are veterans, with tote bags laden with every necessity: sun cream, umbrellas (one never knows), cardis, M&S sandwiches (everything at the All England Club now being so expensive or vegan nowadays), water, binoculars, sunglasses, their long-distance specs, obvs, and tiny Roberts (so comforting, bought at Peter Jones) sports radios with ear plugs so they can listen to the commentary at the same time as watching the match.

They have tickets for Court One – such a treat with its new retractable roof, although they regret the extra work it is causing for Rufus the hawk, who is having to clear it of roosting pigeons. Julia and Veronica are reassured that Rufus’s handler, Imogen, limits his flying time if it gets too hot. The vegans would be hysterical if a mangled pigeon dropped on top of them.

So much has changed. Julia and Veronica can remember when they came on sixth form school outings to the Championships and were able to wander from court to court and stand at the back. How gracious the women’s tennis was in the days of Evonne Goolagong, no grunting. Now, apart from Serena Williams, they don’t know, let alone can pronounce, many of the

players. Who are Muchova, Pliskova and Wozniacki? Not that they much care, it’s been the men’s tennis for them ever since John Newcombe and Rod Laver – such gentlemen only equalled these days by their god, Roger Federer. They remember the titanic struggles of Björn Borg (lovely chap) and John McEnroe (so rude, it started the rot), the frankly dull slogging of Pete Sampras and then the shining star of Andy Murray. He may be gangly and shouty, but he is their gangly, shouty, plucky Briton.

Julia and Veronica hope that they won’t wander by mistake into the Sustainability Demonstration Space, much as they admire Wimbledon’s banning of plastic straws, plastic racket covers, new recyclable water bottles and the introduction of sustainably sourced lobster. They’re puzzled about the All England Club tackling air pollution (bad language on court?) and food poverty in Merton.

For the rest of the fortnight, they’ll watch on television. Julia and Veronica miss Des Lynam.

Victoria Mather

There’ll Always Be an England by Victoria Mather and Sue Macartney-Snape (Constable, £12.99). Facebook/Instagram: @social_stereotypes