Nana's talking of entering me for Wimbledon next year - she heard Sue Barker saying they were looking out for fourteen-year-olds and my mother encouraged the idea by pointing out that long legs run in our family. The trouble is that it's all based on a misunderstanding.

We were watching Queens Stella Artois tennis final on television, the three of us, and I happened to say "I'd quite like to do that". And before you could say 'Rafael Nadal' my mother had already planned her finals outfit for watching me in the box reserved for family members. I shouldn't really have corrected her and spoilt her dream. I should have let her go on thinking I wanted to become the first British Wimbledon finalist with a good dress sense. But it wouldn't have been true so I had to explain - I had no desire to be a Wimbledon champion; it was shouting "Out!" with a definitive arm gesture that I'd thought I'd quite like to do.