Supermarkets sell out of strawberries. Pimm’s flows freely. Ace! It must be Wimbledon | Hannah Jane Parkinson

Last year’s tennis-less summer was saddening. This year, the fresh, green lawns will be a sign of hope

Wimbledon is upon us, when the month of June transforms the UK into a tennis-mad nation (although this year it will have some competition from Euro 2020, in 2021). Supermarkets sell out of strawberries and cream; Pimm’s flows freely; somehow people are moved to spend £35 on official insignia towels; a carnival atmosphere accompanies hours’-long queues for tickets; purple, white and green insert themselves into the national colour scheme.

I imagine those interested in tennis all year round greet Wimbledon with ambivalence. On the one hand, excellent grand slam action; on the other, a clamour of fair-weather amateurs booking up courts. I played tennis at school, and adored it. I follow it vaguely all year, but I’m afraid I definitely belong to the cohort of June enthusiasts.

Related: Hampers and prosecco, or blankets and pre-mixed tinnies: let the picnics commence! | Hannah Jane Parkinson

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