I was in high school when I first decided that design would be my destination, but my GPS must have been on the blink, because the exact area of design was undetermined. Today, I'm no closer to finding the exact location I fit into, but I have discovered that it's something that doesn't need to be found.
In almost every international tournament, Britons baying for success end up disappointed, often before the event is even half way through. As a nation, we stand these people - who regularly end up in the newspaper for one nightclub misdemeanour or another, one extramarital trifling or another, or the occasional on-pitch inappropriate remark - on pedestals and eulogise them as pillars of our nation.
I have no personal animus against Andy Murray, and I dare say it is irritating not to win a tennis match, but precisely when did we turn into a nation of snivelling losers? At what point in the history of the last hundred years did the stiff upper lip start to quiver; Did it stop being shameful for a grown man to burst into tears just because he came second in a game? Did it become possible for a serial runner-up to become 'champion of our hearts' not with a bang, but a whimper?
The tennis this weekend caused quite a stir. In the big Murray VS Federer debate, loyalties across the country were torn between supporting a Brit and supporting a tennis favourite. Of course, if you admitted you were supporting anyone other than Murray, the aftermath was almost as bad as telling an avid football supporter that 'it's just a game'.