My ‘top secret’ job today has kept me from blogging until now, late in the day. Sadly, I have not solved the Brexit problem, nor have I made the weather better – it has been dire all day. Nor have I solved world peace, nor even remotely ‘made a difference’.

I periodically glanced at Wimbledon on the tele, and I despaired for those non-Centre Court ticket holders, who had seen no action – zero – due to the rain. They were wandering around like sheep without a shepherd. Drinking Pimms, diluted by the rain, and eating soggy sandwiches. Hoping, against hope, that the sun would win through and they would see some action.

Centre Court now has a bazillion pound electronic roof (both in terms of cost and weight), which is closed when it rains. It was closed all day today. So if you were one of the lucky few with Centre Court tickets, you were okay. If not, it was a wash out for you. Luck of the draw!!!

Wimbledon, yesterday, was sublime for me until – late in the day – 4.30 pm. I sat in the sunshine, smugly watching fellow countryman, Nicky Kyrgios, crush his opponent. And then, another Aussie, Tomic, playing a Spanish opponent. Who could believe it? Talk about luck. Australia is ‘the lucky country’, and I had ‘lucked in’. You win ballot tickets, and you see the only Aussies seeded at Wimbledon! That is very good luck!

Somehow, a contingent of green and yellow – Aussie colours – sheilas and blokes – had nabbed frontrow tickets. They kept up a non-stop, tightly-choreographed cheer-campaign, in song, for both Aussie racketeers. Was I proud? Not sure! It was funny, but it was, a tad, naff! What does ‘naff’ mean? It a word that Sloanes use to indicate that something is not quite right… really what they mean is that something is a bit off, like fish left out in the midday sun. Like finding a sweat-drenched shirt in the bottom of your Gym bag after a few months.

But at 4.30 pm, as predicted, the heavens chucked it down, and play was suspended. It happened in a few seconds. One minute, I was on Court no. 2 watching Tomic fight to get through the first round and, the next minute, the heavens opened, and it was bucketing. Within lightning seconds, ‘fit’ grounds-people ran and pulled covers over the perfectly manicured lawns, like magic.

Thousands of people ran from the grounds to get home. Southfields Tube was hell on earth. The Powers that Be had closed the entrance to the Tube, as they didn’t want a crush on the platform. So instead, we all stood on the road and waited to be mowed down by the traffic in torrential rain.

Life is so much like that, isn’t it? One moment you are in heaven and then, suddenly, there can be a turn in direction.

Still it was a corker of a day. I spent it with my Brit mate from Steep Tennis Club, talented artist Louise Braithwaite. After-all, skin is waterproof! She had just returned from Glastonbury, where it was a mud-fest, due to the extreme wet weather this year in June.