One of the pleasures of Wimbledon is the middle Sunday with no play, a luxury not afforded by the other majors (Roland Garros even begins on the first Sunday – a 15 day affair). It allows a brief respite from the chaos of the press center and a chance to be a tourist for a few hours (Monday deadlines notwithstanding).

My mother happens to be in London visiting for a few days, and we made the most of it. We hit a couple of top restaurants, visited the Cy Twombley exhibit at the Tate Modern and walked along the Thames with views of Parliament, Big Ben and the surrounding skyline. 

But the highlight might have been our Sunday lunch with my distant cousin, the Baroness Trumpington. Think of Maggie Thatcher meets Dame Edna. I can’t exactly connect all the dots, but there were two branches of the Robson clan, one in England, the other in America. Lady Trumpington, AKA, Jean Barker, is one of them. She got into politics in the 1970s, served as Mayor of Cambridge and eventually became a member of the House of Lords in 1980 under Thatcher herself.

Now 85, Lady Trumpington hasn’t lost her spunk, or her salty language. Standing around 6-foot-2 and almost as wide, my several-layers removed cousin cuts an imposing figure. We met at some point 20-odd years ago, and though she couldn’t recall that we had ever spent any time together she remains as sharp as ever. Her appetite is hearty, too. During a three-hour lunch, she dined on a lobster omelet and kidney and bacon. She declined dessert, but managed to down a Bloody Mary and a glass of red wine.

Lady Trumpington regaled us with stories (she greets dignitaries at Heathrow to welcome them for the Queen and told an usual story about Robert Mugabe's former wife) and invited me for a personal tour at Parliament next year. But perhaps what most amused me were here thoughts on Wimbledon. If it’s not already clear, Lady Trumpington doesn’t mince words. And she laid into some of the top tennis players.

She grimaced and launched into Andy Murray, saying she couldn’t stand the young Scot. “He’s bloody ugly,” she offered. Then she went on for a few minutes about Rafael Nadal’s unsightly habit of picking at the back of his trousers. She cocked her head and pronounced: “I think he’s got piles.” Piles? I had to ask her what that meant, and she explained it was a less pleasant, colloquial form of hemorrhoids. Some on this blog or readers of Tennis.com may recall my “marriage” on stage during a Dame Edna show in Melbourne last year. After this, I’ve feel like I've got two dames in my life!

Speaking of relatives, I noticed that a girl named Laura Robson from Great Britain is the girls’ singles. Robson, just 14 years old, beat American Alexa Gaurachi 6-0, 6-4 in the first round Monday. She next plays No. 1 seed Melanie Oudin of the U.S. No word yet if she’s a relative.