They came expecting the hottest day in Wimbledon’s history – eclipsing the 34.6C recorded in the iconic summer of 1976. Warnings rung in their ears of not venturing outside between 11am and 3pm, unless strictly necessary. If they weren’t in The Queue – the capitals are Wimbledon’s own – by 7am they would be turned away so that the organisers did not overstuff the grounds.
But when play started on the outside courts at 11.30am, it was, underwhelmingly, a bit overcast. The sun nestled behind blobs of cotton wool, and a gentle breeze swept down the boulevards between the main stadia. The referee’s office was braced to implement the heat rule, which allows a 10-minute break between the second and third sets in women’s matches when the “heat stress index” – a measure of the air temperature, humidity and surface temperature – exceeds 30C. But, according to the equipment outside No3 Court at 11am, they didn’t need to. Subsequent readings would be taken at 2pm and 5pm.
An ice-cream stall beside Centre Court, selling Magnums for £3.30, was deserted. Nearby Joanna Waterhouse and her seven-year-old son Jake from Cheshire were spotted buying a white Wimbledon-branded baseball cap for £20. Had they been caught out by the extreme weather? “Not really,” replied Waterhouse. “Jake’s got a Manchester United cap here, but he wanted one from here, too. It’s not actually that hot – it was much worse last night.” They dashed off unfazed to queue for Court Three to watch Liam Broady, who played at the same club as Jake.
In the main Wimbledon superstore, business was brisk, but mostly with visitors buying mementoes of their day out. Julie Forrest, from Solihull via South Africa, struggled to decide between two wide-brimmed panamas. “I didn’t bring a hat on purpose because I knew I wanted to buy one,” she said. She looked at the price tag, £75, and wrinkled her nose. “I will buy one, just because, but it is very expensive.”
Wimbledon, which is dotted with the odd free drinking fountain, might counter that not everything is sold at a premium on the grounds. At a sunglasses concession in the shop, a rack of Rodenstock lenses – as modelled by the umpires here – was for sale, with last year’s styles going for £59. “They would cost you more than £100 in an opticians,” the assistant advised, “but Wimbledon has a deal.”
Temperatures would rise as the day went on, but in the Wimbledon shop even the £12 compact umbrellas were shifting. A Dutch woman popped one in her basket – had she not seen the Met Office’s unnerving projections of the heatwave? She smiled: “But tomorrow it will rain.”
