So Wimbledon's on huh?
Essentially it means a smidgen of very-British-loyalty remains intact for Andy Murray 'til about round three when he's knocked out by someone with an impossibly spelt Russian name. Then we're allowed to let on why we're really glued to Court One; Rafa's arms and Federer's well cut Ralph Lauren blazers.
In all seriousness it is a joy to watch players of that calibre; any sportsman with such blatant natural talent is awe inspiring. But maybe that's the Pimms talking?
Ah, Pimms! Why is it so great? Mainly because all it takes to conjure up a scorching summer full of Panamas and summer-made-of-nothing-dresses is the unscrewing of a bottle and a splash of lemonade. Tired piece of mint and the inclusion of the cucumber that was on your puffy eyes optional.