English strawberries and a glass of chilled champagne – what a perfect accompaniment to a Wimbledon final.
To be honest, it was hard to find any strawberries left by the slugs in the garden and I was only drinking Cava, but I was determined to join the rest of the nation in its patriotic fervour.
I tried explaining to Jo why it was such an important day for this most English of traditions, the first time “we’d” reached the men’s singles final since 1936.
“Isn’t he the same guy who lost last year?” she asked, rather dispiritedly.
To be honest, it was hard to find any strawberries left by the slugs in the garden and I was only drinking Cava, but I was determined to join the rest of the nation in its patriotic fervour.
I tried explaining to Jo why it was such an important day for this most English of traditions, the first time “we’d” reached the men’s singles final since 1936.
“Isn’t he the same guy who lost last year?” she asked, rather dispiritedly.
