There is a moment in the year that marks, for me, the official start of the summer. Forget the calendars, throw out the science, it’s down to three things: A. The start of the Tour de France. B. Wimbledon. C. The British Grand Prix.

That these things start together on the same weekend, that I have not been in the UK to witness this spectacle for many years, and the fact that I have not really watched any telly since Christmas, well, it was certain that I was to enter my own summer sporting event – that of the Television Marathon. And what a day – killer Grand Prix, and after a good bottle of wine, a definitive Wimbledon final. Oh I do miss home sometimes.

On your marks…

Set…

… pass the wine!