Today at Wimbledon: Day 2. Wimbo-Chic

Today I would like to talk to you about what people wear to Wimbledon. There are definitely two distinct styles. On one side we have those who have probably been given the tickets from work, freebies from the All England Club or go because they love to tell everyone they know that they have 'Centre tickets dahhhling' before rushing off in their Land Rover to pick up Tarquin and Jemima from school. These are the Wimbledon-ers who wear pashminas and blazers, straw hats with purple and green on and pearls. On the other side of the fashion net we have the die-hards, the tennis fans and the Henman-hillers. This group consists of a bunch of red, white and blue-wearing, union jack clutching, deely bopper-wearing nutters and they are what makes Wimbledon amazing. It's this group who the average Wimbledon watcher at home can identify with. We love the people who have gone to the effort of painting their faces, writing 'GO MURRAY!' on their best white shirt and  get jolly pissed on Pimms. These are the people who queue for days to get a coveted ticket for Centre Court to shout 'COME ON TIM' at Andy Murray.

In other news and as an addition to yesterday's 'Today at Wimbledon' feature 'The World's Greatest Name' I would like to introduce you to Kaia Kanepi. A name that makes her sound like a mini smoked salmon bagel served with a glass of bubbly. Amazing. Stay tuned for more tennis player's amazing names.

Wimbledon, Weather and Come on Tim.

We all secretly love the British Summer. Moaning about the weather is so ingrained into our national psyche I am pretty sure it is written up as a law somewhere, along with the ones about being able to drive sheep over London Bridge if you are a Lord. As Brits we also love an underdog. You just have to look at Strictly each year. Admittedly it is either our love of an underdog or rather a sadistic part of us that enjoys Anne Widdecome being dragged round a dancefloor, in front of millions, every Saturday night. Let's say underdog. It sounds much more, well, British. 

Naturally then the last week in June and the first in July fill this country with something it only gets once a year (because not many of us worry about the weather forecast for Strictly), the chance to root for the underdog and two blissful weeks when we can moan about the weather to our hearts content. Wimbledon. Yes, that great staple of the British Summer. It's two weeks where each and every one of us realises that we are the next Maria Sharapova, Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal and takes to our local tennis court with such gusto that it requires an ice bath, a glass of Pimms and the rest of the fortnight spent camped out on the sofa. These are the best two weeks of the whole Summer. I'm just going to say it. 

Even if you hate sport you can love Wimbledon. We can eat strawberries and cream, get afternoon drunk on Pimms, moan that it is too rainy or too hot, cheer Andy Murray and then collectively sigh with relief when he doesn't quite make it because we have already forgotten how to treat a winner, even after last Summer. This next fortnight brings with it the best of the British Summer in one handy two week-sized package so that by the end of it we can pack up the bunting and the Pimms and look forward to a Winter being able to moan, naturally, about the weather. So go forth and enjoy the next two weeks of sitting down, watching other people exercise and remember....COME ON TIM.