Today we celebrate 24 years of married bliss, and Roger Federer's Wimbledon win; his seventh. Our wedding took place in our loft on Lafayette Street in NYC, but no pictures were taken so we dressed up again a few days after the wedding and set the delayed action. On my right is my son Alexander and on my left my daughter Cathy.
We spent today gardening; weeding to encourage nature's finest ground cover, Vinca Minor to spread, and spraying things with Dawn to keep the bugs off. Tonight we will open a bottle of Auxey-Duresse given to us by Nick Groombridge when he came round to show us his McLaren the other day.
The glory that is surrounding Murray's loss at Wimbledon is perplexing. You might have thought he had won. I can't remember a runner-up so praised. Caroline took another line: "The Queen should put him in the Tower; even have his head off." I pointed out that his being Scottish, with their impending independence, that's now not so easy. Federer does not read press reports about himself or an other player, he tells us, so he does not care about all this.
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