by I’ve just finished a two-hour lesson, the first hour of which my student spent showing me her holiday photos, with commentary almost entirely in Romanian. She also gave me a whole load of tomatoes, cucumbers and hot peppers, that came from a friend of hers.
I spoke to Dad again yesterday. We talked about the crazy month between his cancer diagnosis and his “all-clear”. It’s hard to believe it was only one month. During that month, everything became both longer and narrower.
On Saturday I had no work, and the weather wasn’t stupidly hot, so decided I’d cycle down the track to Serbia, as far as I could while staying within the law. I did 76 km there and back. For me that’s a lot, and I really felt it on the way back. I also caught the sun. I made stops at Sânmihaiu Român and the pleasant village of Uivar. Beyond Livada (“the Orchard”), where people flock to for beer and mici, there was hardly a soul. I had the whole track seemingly to myself. Eventually the kilometre markers were down to single figures, but just past the 2 km sign was a white line and a stop sign. Cross that point and I would enter no man’s land, and likely get a fine and all the bureaucratic hassle that comes with that. I met two other cyclists at the line who told me that no, crossing the line wouldn’t be a great idea. That was a bit disappointing after travelling all that way, but I liked the sense of remoteness and visiting another Romanian village (which, by that stage, was only just in Romania). Also the sheer amount of exercise made me feel good, at least when it was all over. When I mentioned my trip to one of my students, she thought I was crazy for doing it by myself. I guess I just need other people less than other people. (Being on my own was great. I could go as fast or as slow as I liked, and could stop whenever and wherever I wanted.)
Wimbledon has started. In fact, half the singles matches have already been completed. We’ve had two quite dramatic days already, with so many high seeds departing in round one. Yesterday saw Nick Kyrgios in action against his compatriot Jordan Thompson. Whatever you think of Kyrgios, this match was batshit crazy, couldn’t-take-your-eyes-off-it stuff. Another match to grab my attention was the last to finish. It was played on No. 1 Court, and pitted Donna Vekic against Alison Riske (whose last name is pronounced simply “risk”, not “risky” or “risqué”). Riske was teetering on the edge in the third set, but battled back to level the score at 5-5. Then, for the first time ever, they closed the roof. The £70 million roof. I dunno, that’s seems a helluva lot for something just to stop people having to come back the next day to hit a few tennis balls. The match could have extended another hour (and by Romanian time it was getting pretty late), but Riske only dropped two further points on the resumption. The biggest story so far, however, has been 15-year-old Coco Gauff, and she’s in action again today.
