My mother is already dreading the day, in a fortnight's time, Wimbledon is over for another year, a year she may not live to see.
She is dreading that, in the final, "her" Federer may lose to Nadal whose biceps are too large.
She is dreading Venus or Serena will win, and doesn't like he fact that Sharapova has muscled up.
She dreads Andy Murray being vulgar and winning. (Brother Jamie, though, is almost the perfect gentleman.)
She dreads her eyes getting too tired to read the Commentaor's words on Ceefax sub titles.
My mother loves Wimbledon
I love Wimbledon too, if only for the fact when I am watching it on t.v. I get an echo when the planes fly over SW19. Mundane I know, but I am easily pleased