But – if he looked a bit less Napoleon Dynamite might that  bring out his inner champ? He could start with losing the pubic hair goatee,  in the interests of aerodynamics as well as  looking a bit  more hunky.

My favourite Wimbledon 2011 story is about a male youth player playing on the furthest outside court, so far away from the show courts it almost had a different postcode.  He got into  a super-strop over a line call and chucked his racquet on the grass with such force……… that it bounced over the wall and into the road on the other side.

I  tried to stay cool and wore a big floppy hat but it wilted in the heat and the brim ended up blocking my view and chafing my chin so I had to take it off.

Highlights were that my bag of jumbo sized chocolate buttons oozed into chocolate sauce within minutes of sitting down and made a very good hot dip for the Coconut Mushrooms – see previous post. Also that we were ‘buggied’  from our car parking space to the  entrance which made me laugh out loud all the way for no particular reason, and that was before I suffered heatstroke.

Federer, Murray and the divine red-knickered Serena Williams didn’t even break sweat as they thundered about  Centre Court.  But I, sat down, was paddling in it within thirty minutes. And I can confirm that perspiration-heavy wet linen (as worn by the row of Camilla lookie likies behind me) smells of green beans cooking even when very posh and previously fragrant people  wear it. Make up melts, too, I found mascara streaks and strawberry kiss lipstick marks on my hands, forearms and cleveage when I peeled my clothes off last night.

The stewards politely requested that anyone  who was going to faint because of the heat gave them plenty of prior warning before  keeling over,  and my sister’s nose got kissed too hard by a sunbeam which is why today she is sporting a Wimbledon blister with pride. It’s like a mini tennis ball and a reminder of our perfect day.

My new shoes are the only problem. They are natty navy coloured suede peeptoe wedges with ankle straps. Quite Betty Boo I think and they definitely make my feet look young.

The only problem is I can’t put them on alone because the buckles are too far to the side of the shoe and my eyesight (poor) and general dexterity (poorer)  won’t allow me to twist, bend and do them up blind with one hand. The Suede straps are thick and the part of the buckles they tuck under is very thin and the operation requires precision, double joints or another pair of hands to get them in nicely.

Trouble is on Monday morning I will be alone in the house bar the dog. He’s smart but paws and buckles don’t mix.

So I’ve decided  to employ human help getting the shoes buckled up on Sunday night, and then sleep in them. I was never a Girl Guide but, golly brown owls, I would have been excellent at the ‘be prepared stuff’ wouldn’t I?