IF you’re a British player, you would have thought that Wimbledon would be the one tennis tournament every year where you were guaranteed the bulk of the support.

Spare a thought for Middlesbrough’s Sarah Borwell then, following her first-round women’s doubles game yesterday.

Playing with fellow Brit Anne Keothavong, Borwell was taking on Australian duo Samantha Stosur and Rennae Stubbs.

According to a recent survey, two million Australians live overseas, with at least 400,000 residing in London.

Yesterday, I reckon half of them were packed around Court Five yelling “Go Aussie” every time Stosur and Stubbs won a point.

The benches at the edge of the court were a sea of green and gold, and the accents were definitely more Sydney than Surbiton. There were plenty of Union Jacks on display – but only in the corner of the Australian flag.

“It felt pretty strange,” said Borwell. “There were lots of British fans there – they just didn’t seem to be the ones making the noise.”

Lets hope the same’s not true of the Ashes this summer.

AN amusing press box diversion is to read the list of names who are present in the Royal Box, and then Google them to find out who they are.

Yesterday, we had Lord Timothy Bell, a public relations executive best known for his role in Margaret Thatcher’s three election wins, Professor Christopher Dobson, a molecular biologist at Cambridge University, and the Right Honourable Christopher Geidt, the Private Secretary to Queen Elizabeth.

I think it’s a safe bet none of those had to queue overnight for their tickets.

Tucked away towards the back row, though, were a couple of gems. I seem to recall most of Richard Stilgoe’s greatest moments coming in Countdown’s Dictionary Corner.

Yesterday’s seven-letter word was clearly freebie.

And a couple of seats along from Richard sat a certain Mr Bruce Forsyth, light entertainment legend, Strictly Come Dancing God and tennis aficionado.

“What do points make Your Majesty?” “That’s right, prizes.”

THE whole of Wimbledon and its surrounding area embraces the Championships, and on leaving Wimbledon Underground station, you’re immediately met with a giant inflatable tennis court that tests your serve.

Now unlike The Northern Echo’s esteemed editor, who recently won a title at Blackwell Grange Tennis Club – veteran’s of course – I haven’t picked up a racquet since my days at Wolsingham Comp.

I still managed a respectable 65mph though, which I reckon would stand me in good stead if I decided to head back to the court.

It was certainly better than a certain national newspaper representative, who at the moment shall remain nameless. Despite the target being at least 15ft square, his serve is still trundling down Wimbledon High Street as we speak.