Not even the sun can spoil the joy of umbrellas and clouds

Rain at Wimbledon is like sex, or The War. People don't like to mention it; and yet it's always there, lurking. And some people seem to know more about it than others.

As the elements first began to disrupt the smooth-running of the 116th All England Championships this week, one of the game's respected observers passed on The Word. The Word from The Club. And The Word was: Don't bank on getting away for your holidays by Monday.

Pressed further on the imminent prospects for play, the said observer observed, as observers tend to do, that it would probably be 3.46 before anything got under way.

He wasn't being entirely serious – but as things turned out, he was spookily close to the truth. Before Jennifer Capriati and Amelie Mauresmo began to club the ball in earnest on Centre Court, however, there was entertainment to be had of a far less violent kind.

Although rain is an inescapable – some might even say quintessential – part of the Wimbledon experience, all reference to it over the loudspeaker is elliptical. This may be a convention.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man on the tannoy announced. I imagined him in a blazer and cravat, speaking into one of the old microphones formerly employed by swing bands and now favoured by Frank Skinner. "There's a very large black cloud coming over towards SW19 and in fairness to the players and indeed spectators we are delaying play for a few minutes in the hope that this black cloud might go past. Thank you for your patience."

It was a statement which seemed perverse in the circumstances. Centre Court was pretty much full, save for the deckchair-like seats at the front of the Royal Box which, with their varying heights, looked as if they had been prepared for daddy bear, mummy bear and baby bear.

And the sun had come out. Without question. Because all those who had raised their coloured umbrellas as if on orders earlier in the afternoon had, as if on orders, lowered them.

(While we're on the subject of umbrellas – every umbrella visible inside Centre Court was made up of broad, vertical, coloured stripes. Not one spectator had a 101 Dalmatians umbrella, or a West Ham United umbrella, or one of those umbrellas that looks like a parrot or a frog when you put it up. This may be a convention.)

For a moment, as that sun we have mentioned shone, it seemed possible to believe that everyone had come just to see the tent which had been so proficiently erected by the latest generation of young volunteers in short trousers dedicated to the noble cause of the All England Lawn Tennis Club.

As war – sorry, rain – had threatened, these young lads had gathered at one end of the court, joking, smoking a last cigarette, taking a final tot of rum, and then, with fixed bayonets, sorry, grins, charging out to do their duty to God and the Queen, even though the Queen at least was absent.

Turning momentarily into prancing horses, they strained across court, tugging their shining green cover behind them as if taking part in an Olympic opening ceremony. "Then the sea came, reclaiming the land, turning farms and fields to green salt water..."

There was a round of watery applause. Another one greeted the successful conversion of the cover to its tented form by means of winches at either end of the court. Personally, I was taken back to those quiet moments when I used to watch the Union Jack being raised at Scouts. It's always a relief when these things work.

So there it was. Crowd. Sun. Tent.

Around me, people squinted up at a clear sky framed by the camouflage green of the Centre Court roofing, clearly seeking the rogue cloud which was spoiling everybody's day. Damned if I could spot it.

At such moments, it is usual to debate whether Wimbledon should put roofs over its courts. But that would detract from the traditional feel of the event. Two more sympathetic remedies suggest themselves.

First – by means of a large flexible duct, of the type you see coming out of tumble dryers, hot air being generated in the BBC commentary box could be blown across the rim of the stadium, thus forming an effective shield against rainfall.

Alternatively, why not take advantage of the cover afforded by the tent and simply continue play within it, giving spectators the opportunity to follow the action on big screens around the court? This would also test the ability of the players to adapt their game to the conditions.

I don't think these suggestions will be taken up. As Lleyton Hewitt commented last week: "Wimbledon is Wimbledon."

Thank you for your patience.