This morning, 75% recovered from my own enteritis, I go out to the coast to visit my mum, who, though several days further into her episode has still yet to rally. She sounded more or less weak and pathetic on the phone, but on arrival some encouraging words and a bowl of spring vegetable soup prepared in her microwave, seems to have brought about an improvement of sorts.
So I return home and watch magnificent Murray crash against the impenetrable rock that is Rafael Nadal. Poor Murray: Henman came to his best years just when Sampras did the same; it emerges now that Nadal will be Murray's nemesis in the same way- maybe someone could do a Tonya Harding on him the next time? I suspect it will be the only way he will get past an opponent with an embarrassment of riches in his game, not the least of which is the greatest forehand of all time.
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