weepies

I'm listening to this song on my i-pod. It's been a sad weekend. My husband's colleague died yesterday morning in the early hours. He was diagnosed less than two months ago with esophageal cancer. He was so busy looking after his patients he didn't stop to take the time to look after himself, until it was too late.

It is a recurring theme with many men. I hope it will be a wake-up call to my old man to take some time for himself - he's always going back to work after dinner to do a few more hours of paperwork to keep the NHS afloat.

I'm also listening to Paul Weller's new album 22 Dreams. It is excellent, he is such a good songwriter and the mix of material on this album is really impressive.

My hay fever is bothering me something rotten,the high winds here are fanning grass pollen everywhere. So I have a good excuse to stay indoors and watch Wimbledon. It's the first time in years that matches have engaged me enough to watch them from start to finish, as there are some great touch players around just now, not least our own Andy Murray. It is so much better than watching those awful boom, boom baseline games.

I used to play tennis as a girl, eye streaming with hay fever as the single tarmacked village court was surrounded on three sides by meadows. We'd play from sun up to sun down, arguing over points in matches that sometimes lasted for 15 sets. Then when Wimbledon came along the big village boys would come and evict us for a week or two, before going back to their fags and football as soon as it finished.

My racket was heavy and wooden, and not a little warped. But those summer days seemed to last for ever and were full of great lessons about persistence, fairness and not pushing your luck!