June 29 – July 12, 2026 · All England Club, London · Est. 1877 · The oldest tennis tournament on earth
There are a handful of things that, for me, are summer and the hush of Centre Court is one of them. Wimbledon came back to London this summer, as it has every year since 1877, which by now makes it less an event and more a national institution with very firm opinions on dress codes and queueing. And still the grass works its magic on me: the quiet before a serve, the crack of a clean winner, strawberries eaten by the tonne under an English sky doing its unpredictable best.
But here’s what the uninitiated never quite grasp, and it’s the reason I love it so much. Wimbledon was never really about the tennis alone. It’s a fortnight-long demonstration of the one idea I’ve built everything on: that living beautifully and thinking seriously about money aren’t opposites. They’re partners. The All England Club has spent nearly 150 years quietly proving me right.
What actually happened
- The Championships returned to the lawns of SW19 for a fortnight of the most elegant sport in the world.
- The traditions held firm: the all-white dress code, the green and purple, the strawberries and cream, the gloriously stubborn refusal to modernise for its own sake.
- Millions watched worldwide, and the champions’ prize money ran into the millions of pounds.
The real story: the business of restraint
- While rival tournaments plaster every surface with advertising, Wimbledon keeps its courts pristine, and that restraint is exactly what makes the brand priceless.
- Sponsors pay handsomely just to be associated with elegance; broadcasters fight over the rights; the prestige compounds year after year.
- Tonnes of strawberries, gallons of cream none of it cheap and nobody minds, because the experience is the whole point.
What I take from it
Here’s the bit that stays with me. Wimbledon could have sold out for a quick buck decades ago. Instead, it played the long game and became invaluable. To me, that’s the purest lesson in patience there is.
And notice what “living well” actually means here. It isn’t reckless spending. It’s deliberate spending on the moments that genuinely bring joy. A strawberry at Wimbledon was never really a strawberry. It’s a memory you’re choosing to buy. (You’ve heard me say it before: collect afternoons, not objects.)
The view from the baseline
Discipline where it counts, so you can be generous where it matters that’s the whole game, on and off the court.
It’s serene, sun-dappled, and quietly very well-off down there. A century and a half of choosing quality and patience over the quick and the gaudy, and being rewarded with something money can’t buy in a hurry. Not a bad philosophy for a tennis club. An even better one, I’d say, for a life, yours included.
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