Being a good sport.

On Sunday I got up and ran around the Castro Park as usual, stopping on the way back to take this photo of a piece of sculpture, street furniture some call it, which has appeared near the Castro at some point during the time since we used to live in Vigo. 

It is labelled simple “Vigo 2010” and each metal plate appears to be bear the name of a district of the city. I have been unable to confirm this as the thing is in the middle of the roundabout and getting close to it is a little dangerous. 

After that I played hunt the bread shop. My usual port of call, which sells excellent bread, is closed on a Sunday. I had found a reasonable substitute but I must have taken a wrong turning somewhere and could not find it again. So I ended up at the much inferior, in my opinion, shop at the end of Calle María Berdiales. Now, this shop is popular in the afternoons; there is always a queue, possibly for cakes, at that time of day. However, the bread seems to me to be too full of air. Mind you, perhaps holey / holy bread is appropriate for Sunday. 

On Saturday evening we had asked at the cafe Nuevo Derby if they might have the tennis on their television on the following day. We have no television set in the bijou residence and really fancied watching the Wimbledon final. It’s not every year that you get a “británico” in the final after all. OK, he’s Scottish, not English, but then, nobody is perfect. 

Anyway, we went down after lunch and they put the tennis on especially for us. Secretly I think the waiter preferred it to the canned music which was on before. Murray put up a brave fight to begin with but by the time rain stopped play for a while he was already struggling. At this point we watched the Tour de France for a while and were reassured to find that our boy Bradley Wiggins was in the yellow jersey once again. That’s two days on the run. Will this be his year? 

While Wimbledon was deciding what to do about putting the covers over the centre court, we went for a stroll in the sunshine. To give ourselves an objective, rather than just wandering around aimlessly, we went looking for a restaurant where I am supposed to be meeting a friend for lunch tomorrow. We found El Gallinero without too much trouble on Calle Concepción Arenal, just past the end of the alameda. Reports on the food after I’ve been there tomorrow. 

Then we went back to the cafe to watch Federer earn himself a cool £1.4 million by defeating Murray. There was quite a collection of famous names and faces in the crowd. David Cameron was there, looking determined, serious and prime ministerial. In the royal box the Middleton sisters looked on cheerfully. David Beckham was showing interest but Mrs Beckham was looking well groomed but immaculately bored. Ian Hislop was there, just being his usual twinkling self. Apparently Cliff Richard was there but I didn’t notice him and he didn’t stand up and sing when the rain started. There were lots of other faces the camera paused on significantly but I have no idea who they all were. 

Anyway, the match came to an end. Federer finally showed some emotion; he always looks super-cool and unflappable when he plays but he did seem pleased to win .... again. It’s his SEVENTH Wimbledon trophy!! Murray was tearful, thanked his supporters and talked about the emotional pressure. His mum was tearful too and his girlfriend. Federer’s little girls just waved at Daddy and at the camera. 

 I was impressed by the stamina of those who sat outside watching on the big screen, though the sunshine and the rain. They did sterling work standing up and waving whenever they realised they were on screen themselves. 

After the match we took advantage of the sunny evening and walked up to the top of the Castro. We didn’t stay there long, however, as some young men were “sod-casting”, playing their mobile phone or MP3 player music at top volume for all to share. So generous! This is not just a Spanish youth trait, though. I am just more used to it on a Greater Manchester bus than up at the top of the Castro.