Cheery Beakers

These beakers in Peter's Yard seemed to be the only bright thing on this Monday morning.
There was no way I was venturing out further for a blip on another grey rainy morning than our adjoining Swedish cafe, where I'm already missing Berkeleyblipper and her husband for our early coffee tryst.

My nails will take some time to recover from yesterday's tennis match.
I so wanted Andy to win in this Jubilee year and for his win to be a wonderful precursor to the London Olympics.

With one set under his belt, I could remain in front of the television, but as soon as Federer notched up his game, I had to leave the room to reorganise the contents of my wardrobe before hiding in the kitchen to prepare a complicated salad for supper.

When it was all over bar the crying, I was devastated for our Dunblane hero. He had put so much hard work and determination into his preparation for the match, that I could only shed a tear along with him in his disappointment at losing and letting down, as he saw it, his supporters.

However his consolation must be that he gave it his all, and there can be no shame in the way he played the game; he has had the bad luck of being born into an age of great tennis players, Federer, Nadal and Djokovic, and I can but hope that his moment will come.

The only encouraging thing at the moment in this summer of incessant rain is the performance of Bradley Wiggins in the Tour de France. He is another hero of mine, a dedicated and super fit cyclist. Can I dare to hope that the yellow jersey will be his at the end of next week in Paris?