Wimbledon 2012

Wimbledon is over. We did not have tickets but were able to watch it on television, and, with the advantage that in London, we could use the red and blue buttons to keep up with any game when it was switched from a main channel. Yesterday I had the feeling that I could have been about the only person in the whole of the United Kingdom rooting for Roger Federer. My heart went out with everyone’s at the end of the championship final to the tearful Andrew Murray, and I certainly respect his determination, but the contrast between Murray and Federer is exactly on this last point. Roger too is absolutely determined to win and steadily and professionally pursues that determination. But what is also detectable with Roger Federer is his enjoyment of the game – something I am not sure that Murray has yet developed. For him, it seems to be about winning and nothing more. Still, the highlight of the entire tournament for me was when, during the final of the men’s doubles of Jonathan Marray and Frederik Neilsen against  Robert Lindstedt and Horia Tecǎu, Marray informed the chair umpire that he had touched the net and thereby forfeited the point he had just won. This was good sportsmanship and a supreme example of honour – the very thing that seems so absent from our banks, our pharmaceutical consortiums, our multinational corporations and even from our Presidential candidates. In fact, so much of our world today appears hopelessly dishonourable. It was thrilling, therefore, to witness such an open display of honesty and correctness.

Our two months in London are vanishing before we even feel we have been here. We dunked ourselves into the Thames at the supposed moment the sun was on the horizon (one could tell nothing otherwise and thanks to the cloud and rain cover). The next day we were off to Bath to stay with Marion and Leslie and attend the Tenth Annual Sophia Centre Conference for which I gave the final address on Religion versus Science: Science versus Religion: Whither Astrology: Whithersoever? What was the most enjoyable was to see so many dear ones including Nick Campion and his wife Wendy, Bernadette Brady, Darryln Gunzburg, Liz Green, Chantal Allison and Darby Costello. I also got to see my former landlady Sylvia and her husband Rada who gave us a ride back to Marion’s during a deluge of a downpour. It was also nostalgically thrilling to re-see lovely Bath, the Weir, the Pump Room and the overall unique enchantment of the place. It was a packed three days.

Since returning to London, we have had an afternoon with Chloe and Daisy. After a Mexican lunch, we went to see Cosmopolis. We had been to the Scotch Malt Whisky Society with Peter before Bath, and then, after, he came over for some drams chez nous and during the incredible Federer-Benneteau match. Peter finally had me turn around to face the TV and turn the sound up. Tomorrow we go with Peter to the Hurlingham Club. With the loss of Shirley, he is not a happy man but is foraging on as best he can. I have seen dear Esme as well and learned not only that she lost her husband last year but has also been gravely ill herself. But true to the Esme spirit, she is determined to make a full recovery. We now have tickets to go with her to see Play Without Words at Sadler’s Wells and The Last of the Haussmans at the National Theatre (the Lyttelton). We have been to Gin’s degree awards exhibit at the Beaconsfield Gallery in Vauxhall (where we also saw Warren who had just arrived from Amsterdam, Chloe and her friend Chloe) but missed yesterday the opening of Reen Pilkington’s Retrospective ‘My Mind’s Eye’ at Roots and Shoots. We will now go on Wednesday for that. We also had a marvelous evening with Fred and Vicky and their friends Nathan and Rami. And today is our last day of our final nefastus cleansing for the year. Tomorrow, we can indulge yet again. But somehow, through all this, I have managed to write and finish a chapter on “Magic, Astrology and Alchemy” for Whitney Bauman and Lucas Johnston’s book Science and Religion: One World, Many Possibilities. I am also, thanks to Jay, enjoying brief daily and hilarious reads of Alan Bennett’s The Uncommon Reader.

But when I think about whom we have yet to see and what we have yet to do, the mind boggles and oscillates. I try to keep my five main inboxes to no more than 14 emails a piece but am currently with a low of only 176 and no prospective chance of reducing this in the near future. The schedule for the three months in Rhode Island following the London Olympics seems to be no less daunting. We have yet to recover our funds for the Rome rental fiasco – if that is still a possibility, and the Midi farm is appearing increasingly to be our fall-back plan with the Roman pilgrimage deferred to another year. But with the fullness overall and no secretarial assistance as lovely as that might be (and despite the disappointment in that life’s dream during my working days in Bath), I am realizing that I must be much more efficacious with my time in seeing those I wish to see and allowing devoted Richard to include some of the theatrical and museum experiences he wishes. My email responses will therefore need to be less, perhaps much less, and essentially minimal. Time forever appears to be running out, and there are still things to do and accomplish. My love for my loves remains, and I shall continue to cherish those special times of encounter, but we all seem to be frightfully busy and in need of understanding and acceptance of how things are. At least this last is my deep hope at present.