Wimbledon, that annual fortnight in which the grass grows greener, the strawberries grow more expensive, and the British upper lip achieves Olympic-grade stiffness, has once again unfurled its ivy-draped flag over the international conscience. From Lagos to Lima, screens flicker with images of perfectly manicured lawns—lawns that cost more per square meter than a downtown…
Wimbledon 2025: A Green-and-Purple Refuge While the World Burns By our man in the press box with a Pimm’s and a grimace London, June 2025 – The All England Club has once again rolled out its immaculately striped lawn like a giant picnic blanket for the planet’s remaining optimists. Outside the gates, Britain’s fourth government…
From the vantage point of a press perch that smells faintly of disinfectant and broken dreams—Wimbledon’s media bunker, where hope goes to die and biscuits go stale—Katie Boulter has become an unlikely geopolitical weather vane. The 27-year-old from Leicestershire, currently charted somewhere between “British darling” and “late-stage wildcard,” is not merely swinging a graphite wand…
