I never wanted to go to Wimbledon – here’s how SW19 won me over

What was most discernible, however, was the joyful, passionate and care-free manner in which the fans approached the day. Owing to the high cost and location in SW19, the whole fortnight is unashamedly one for the British bourgeoisie, but even so there was barely a spectator present who was not sporting the smile of a Cheshire Cat. Even with no British challenger remaining in the men’s or women’s singles, the mood remained buoyant and buzzing. On The Hill the picture developed into one of harmony; an environment in which parents and prams were just as welcome as those partial to Pimm’s. The Club deserves credit, too, for the way in which tennis die-hards and dilettantes are equally catered for.

On court, there is a welcome intimacy. On television, the arenas – both Centre and No 1 – seem larger and airier but there was a closeness between crowd and spectator that is seldom replicated elsewhere. Refreshingly, however, the untainted investment of the crowd was notable. But, with a lack of big screen on No 1 Court, it had to be.

There were no replays, no phones, no toing and froing to the bar or toilet every two seconds. Just investment in what the fans had paid to watch. On the higher-number courts, the spectators were knowledgeable, with the tennis occupying their undivided attention. Other sports, take note. And, it must be said, no sport has nailed the implementation of technology – specifically, Hawk-Eye – like the tennis trailblazers.

After De Minaur’s victory and before the commencement of the headline act – Novak Djokovic’s histrionics on Centre Court – there was just time for a pit-stop of strawberries, cream and Pimm’s. By the end of the Serbian’s victory, however, after a long day, this Wimbledon debutant had been happily defeated – not quite to love, but certainly to like. I shall be back; on Tuesday, as it happens.