Second home: Strawberrys, queues and rain - tennis at its finest

There is something about England in early summer, when the sky is clear and the sun's rays make your skin tingle. On a day like this it is easy to imagine lying on springy green grass, tucking into a picnic and sipping a long cool drink. Nothing embodies this more than a day at Wimbledon. It is a stage for the world's best tennis players to shine, though for me it means more than just that. Tucked in leafy south-west London, the polished gates of the All-England Club hide a delicious taste of British summertime. From the lush courts and Henman Hill (now renamed Murray Mound), to the seemingly endless stands offering strawberries and cream.

To find the true charm of Wimbledon, forget the pre-booked ticket holders, the real heart lies in the queues. Every year people wait patiently for the chance to see their favourite players in action. Inevitably, the sun does not always shine. In fact, rain is a regular occurance. This was to my fortune in 1997 when the rain stopped play on Saturday and the doors opened for the second "People's Sunday" of Wimbledon's history.

The six-hour wait for my Centre Court ticket allowed me to witness one of the great Wimbledon matches in recent memory. There have been few matches more memorable than the epic battle that raged between home favourite Tim Henman and Paul Haarhuis-Henman sealed victory after a final set 14-12 marathon. With the arrival of the new folding roof on Centre Court, the possibility of longer matches and continued play in bad weather may rule out the need for another "People's Sunday".

It also means games such as last year's spectacular men's final need not climax in near darkness. But what will remain the same is the enchanting spirit of Wimbledon.