I had thought to post about the special service at Holy Trinity this morning, but suddenly it seems like another day and my head is full of the thwack of tennis balls and Mr B is even now washing up not only dinner dishes for four but also the remains of lunch as our guests head off on a two-hour drive home.
Somehow rain stopped play in all the correct places - the first time to let me put a chicken in the oven, the second to let us eat off the dining room table rather than our laps. The way we were carrying on, I suspect much of the chicken might have fetched up on the floor. And what a great match - we were on tenterhooks right up to the last game.
I don't know how they do it, Nadal and Federer - my shoulder aches just to think of keeping up that kind of activity for five minutes, let alone nearly five hours. And that's not even thinking about the running around ... And so gentlemanly, the pair of them - just great. So I shall save any reflections on the rest of the day for a moment of calm, and enjoy instead the catharsis of the moment.