Am I watching history? - One I've missed off my list

It's 4.30pm on Sunday 7th July 2013 and I think I might be watching something momentous unfolding on Centre Court at Wimbledon.

As I type, Andy Murray is two sets up against Novak Djokovic and has broken the giant Croat's serve in the third set. Maybe, just maybe, Andy Murray is going to do what most of us thought was impossible - be British and win Wimbledon.

The nets at the 'rec' in Bradmore were similar to this
 - just a bit worse

With the weather hitting almost 30 degrees, there's something about today which is taking me back to my childhood. I'm sure it's nostalgia and a hint of rose-tinted specs, but I'm sure the summer holidays were like this for 6 long weeks when I was younger?

I'd spend hours with my mates playing tennis 'up at the rec' (those living in Wolverhampton, or at least Penn, will know where I mean.) Simon Gupta and I would spend hours at the tatty-old council-owned courts. Jasper Carrot did a great sketch once where he makes reference to bottles of warm Vimto and cracks down the middle of the court where you could lose your tennis partner - well the 'rec' was a lot like that. The nets always seemed to be going through the menopause with an unfortunate sag around middle too.

Back in those days Andre Agassi, Goran Invanisevic and Pete Sampras were the kings of Wimbledon. For some reason I always wanted to be the American, Todd Martin. Looking back I have no idea why. Must have been because he was caggy handed like me.

The only British hope we had was Jeremy Bates who I think made it into the 3rd round one year and the country went Wimbledon-mad. Until of course he lost. Then it was 'Timbo' Henman. Not quite sure why, but something about Tim never really resonated with me as a kid from Wolverhampton. Then came the Canadian, sorry, British, Greg Rusedski. I'm still not sure whether we could have classed that as a British win if he'd ever got past round 5.

Then of course came the young but dour Scot, Andy Murray. For years he's been a figure of fun - people assuming he was either never good enough or never had the bottle to succeed. Well, I guess that might be just about to change. Although, as I put the full-stop in place, Djokovic just broke Murray's serve. Is this blog too premature?

Either way, it'll be great to see Murray win Wimbledon. I only wish that I'd put Wimbledon down on my list of places to go before I was 30. I've been to Wembley, I'm off to Lords, I've already been to Silverstone, I couldn't care less about Twickenham - but I've always loved Wimbledon. Every year as a kid we'd go tennis mad for two weeks. I even missed half of the famous England vs Holland Euro '96 match because I was beating 'Guppy' at the rec.

Why didn't I put it down!! Oh well, there's still time - perhaps that'll become my number 31.

In other news, my quest to swim continues. I was up bright and early this morning, ready and raring to go for 8.30am. By 8.37 I wanted to go home. Same old frustrations, same old struggles. I think practice is the only thing I can do now and hope it clicks. Clive was in good spirits though - although he's got a blocked ear - but it's ok, he's having it syringed tomorrow.

My bid to watch 10 live gigs has also had a bit of a boost. Last week I saw Blondie (supported by the Lightening Seeds) at Cannock Chase and I've got tickets to see Beady Eye in October. I will indeed be 'top mad for it' that night.

Playing tennis at the 'rec' in the summer of '96 offers some great memories - even if this song doesn't. But it was number one for ages that summer, so here you go...

'C'mon Andy!'

A public apology to Clive and why some things are best left in the past

I have to start this latest entry with a public apology to Clive. It's been a while since my last swimming update so just to re-fresh your memories: I'm 28, I can't swim so I've been taking lessons at Wombourne Leisure Centre. Clive, of course, is the friendly and exceptionally patient instructor.

I swam two lengths in New Zealand
but I haven't stepped foot in the pool since. Complacency?

The only problem is I haven't been in the pool since March! I've well and truly lost my swimming mojo. A combination of generally being really busy and (this is probably the crux of it) I'm really struggling to get motivated to get myself out of bed at 8am on a Sunday morning.

And it's not due to get any easier either - the next two weekends will be another write-off as I've already got plans to meet up with friends. I think in my head I know I've still got a year to master this so missing a few weeks here of there won't matter. Or at least that's how I'm subconsciously justifying my blatant failure to myself. I know I need to get my motivation back - anyone got any ideas??

Still, on a more positive note - my quest to go to at least ten live music/comedy gigs before I hit 30 is going pretty well. Last night I went to the Wolverhampton Grand Theatre to watch 'Made in Brum' with my dad, my brother and my mate Bordy. Hosted by Birmingham's most famous (only famous?) stand-up comic, Jasper Carrott, it was a showcase of the best of the '60s and '70s music Birmingham had to offer. Some may scoff at the very notion of it, but actually the West Midlands produced some great bands during that era: Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, Slade and ELO to name but a few. But what dawned on me last night was that sometimes, some things are best left in the past.

We all like to reminisce. Music is emotive and can transport us back to a particular place in time; a relationship, a holiday; a special occasion - but sometimes you need to leave those memories safely tucked away.

Last night, albeit entertaining, was actually quite depressing. An audience with what Bordy described as an average age of 102, trying to turn back the clock and recapture the joys of years gone by. You know there's a generation gap when you get outside the show and the Ring & Ride pensioners' bus is parked up waiting to take people home.

But aside from the audience, it was sad, and a bit creepy, to see some of the acts on stage. I've never really clocked it before, but my Mom has always said it spooks her out when you've got ageing pop stars in their 60s and 70s singing about 'sweet sixteen' romances. She's actually spot on. Whilst the music will remain, sometimes those who perform it need to step back and say 'I'm done'. One act in particular murdered a Buddy Holly classic - whilst I cringed and prayed it would stop, if you listened very carefully, somewhere in Lubbock Texas you could hear Buddy's grave spinning.

That said, Jasper was on good form - his quip that Jagermeister tastes like 'Badger's p**s' in particular made me chuckle. I loved watching and listening to Jasper Carrott when I was growing up. He's a clever comic - not having to rely on bad language to get cheap laughs. Good, clean, clever observational comedy. But it has dated a bit now. I think I'll choose to remember Jasper from my childhood days and park last night's memory.

I think there's a lesson for us all in here somewhere. Memories should be cherished, of course they should, but spending too much time trying to recapture the past means you might miss all the great things that are happening right now. Like last night's show, some things just need to be fondly left in the past where they belong.

Let me leave with you with this - a great song from a great Black Country band who deserve more credit than simply being wheeled out for a 'top Xmas song countdown' every December...