Henman carries nation's weight of expectation to summit of his hill

When Tim Henman's epic match with Carlos Moya was halted by bad light at 9.18pm at 5-5 in the fifth set, John McEnroe, once the enfant terrible of Wimbledon and now the jewel in the BBC's crown, would have hit the roof had the Centre Court had one. "Oh no," he protested, "they can't take them off now." He stopped just short of saying they cannot be serious.

McEnroe couldn't have been more wrong. Like batsmen being offered the light, the players agreed it was "pretty dark", and the best option was to resume the following day. There was no protest from the spectators, who have been known to hurl cushions. In fact, it was manna from heaven for all concerned, including the BBC, as the extraordinary Henman factor was sustained for another three days.

Say what you like about Henman, but as the only Brit - in the absence of Andy Murray - who can play tennis to championship level he is worth his weight in gold to Wimbledon. Nobody carries more pressure. After Murray pulled out Henman said: "It felt like the world was on my shoulders." He wasn't complaining. He said it with a smile. They built a statue to Fred Perry; Henman Hill is a worthy monument to a great British loser.

NO HAWKERS OR PIGEONS

So, the Centre Court is without Henman, its roof and another Wimbledon institution - the great British pigeon. Our feathered friend was not content with a bird's-eye view of the tennis. It would descend from the rafters of one of the world's most evocative sports arenas and take a stroll around the baseline. Dear old Dan Maskell loved it, the crowd loved it. Alas, with the Centre Court a cabriolet, awaiting the arrival of the new retractable roof, the lesser spotted pigeon has nowhere to roost. This in turn has led to a loss of employment for Harry the Hawk, the All England Club's pest controller, who would breakfast on pigeon pie. Instead we're left with Hawk-Eye, the computer making a fine debut at Wimbledon, adding drama to the big points. And it's British.

MONEY CAN'T BUY LOVE

"It's tough to be away from your family and friends all the time, travelling the world. There are times when every hotel room from New York to Tokyo starts to look the same." This was Elena Dementieva of Russia after breezing through the opening rounds. Poor thing. The world is not just her oyster but it comes with a string of pearls.

Where, you may ask, is the popular Belgian Kim Clijsters? She retired last year. At 23. With about $20m in the bank. And that was before Wimbledon agreed women should receive the same prize money as men. As a matter of fact the men, in terms of money earned for the number of games, sets and matches played, were already worse off. Don't put your daughter on the stage Mrs Worthington, nor on a checkout at Tesco. Shove a racket into her hand instead of a rattle.

STRAWBERRIES AND CREAMING IT

In 1993 a punnet, of not less than 10 strawberries, cost [pound]1.70p. In 2007 the cost is [pound]2, and 28,000 kilos of the fruit will be eaten this fortnight. It is a rare bargain. A Championship programme, however, has risen to [pound]7. People aren't buying them.

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