Formula 1 is the one sport I have never liked, understood or endured watching. I’ve always thought that to label it as a sport is debatable. It is an obscene waste of money, it is an appalling waste of petrol and other resources, dominated by brash advertising and it is noisy. So I’d always turned it off whenever cropped up on the telly.
About a year ago Ifor spotted some F1 on the TV and became instantly hooked. It isn’t hard to see why a little boy would be fascinated by racing cars, but in letting him watch occasional bits of Grand Prix, usually just the highlights, I’ve actually started to understand a bit of what is going on myself. Ifor doesn’t quite get who he is watching as the cars whizz round but he does listen to the commentary and will ask what’s going on, so I have to take note to give a half decent answer. The result of all this is that this weekend I found myself yelling at the TV in the final moments of the Shanghai Grand Prix as Mark Webber overtook Jenson Button.
