I’ll be delighted when last ball is served at Wimbledon - Susan Dalgety

Am I alone in detesting Wimbledon? I hate everything about it. The BBC’s wall-to-wall coverage, which knocks Escape to the Country off the schedule for a fortnight.

Wimbledon about as exciting as watching paint dry, reckons Susan Dalgety

The rain. If it is Wimbledon fortnight, it is bound to rain, even four hundred miles way up here in Edinburgh. The crowds and their hysterical shrieking that greets every point. The close-up shots of the Princess of Wales in the Royal Box – who cares where she bought her summer frock? She’s a size six (allegedly), and would look elegant in a tennis jumper. And the game itself. What is so exciting about two women knocking a ball over a net to each other for hours on end?

I will admit there was a period in my life when I was a huge fan. Back in the late 1970s, when Bjorn Borg ruled Centre Court, I would happily spend an afternoon glued to the telly. But it was the Swede’s blonde hair and diffident smile that attracted me more than his serve. And after he defeated John McEnroe in the classic 1980 men’s final that lasted a gruelling four hours, I don’t think I have ever willingly watched a game, set or match again.

My mother, on the other hand, who has never played a single game of tennis in her very long life, nor is a fan of the sport outside this fortnight, is addicted to it. I dare not call her between the hours of 11am – when matches start on the “outside” courts – and 8pm when bad light probably stops play. When I do catch up with her, she is full of chat about Andy Murray’s volleys and his remarkable stamina, or news about Britain’s latest female ace. It’s Katie Boulder this year apparently.

I shouldn’t mock. Wimbledon is a national institution. For two weeks every summer, it manages to convince most of us that a bunch of highly paid, uber-competitive sports stars are in fact superheroes. That a few tennis courts in south west London are the centre of the universe, and that there are better things on afternoon TV than Money For Nothing. But I for one will be delighted when the last ball is served on Sunday evening.