The prime minister has reminded the country that politics can be a force for good and change people’s lives

It could not come soon enough. After 14 years, Britain at last has a government motivated by re-energising a sluggish economy rather than channelling lucrative state contracts to wealthy friends. A government keen to close the gap between young people from different backgrounds rather than impoverishing children. And one that aims to restore the NHS to its world-leading status rather than neglecting it and leaving people unable to get the care they need. Standing on the steps of Downing Street on Friday, prime minister Keir Starmer delivered a message of hope, pledging to remind the country that politics can be a force for good, and government can change people’s lives for the better.

It was a decisive and deserved victory: the largest majority any government has secured since 1997, just shy of that achieved by Tony Blair. The Conservatives were reduced to a rump of just 121 seats, voters forcing out cabinet minister after cabinet minister, a fitting verdict on a truly dreadful governing record. In Scotland, SNP incumbents were similarly swept away, leaving Labour the largest party in terms of Westminster seats.

His farewell speech at Wimbledon felt like a bereavement for some, but he was more than his tennis

‘Sports people die twice” – this was the standout line from the new documentary Federer: Twelve Final Days, which tracked the Swiss player’s emotional sign-off from professional tennis in 2022. The idea is that there’s the death that is coming for all of us, when we take our final breath, but the top-level athlete fits in another one: when they retire. In some ways, this “death” can be even harder to come to terms with. How does it feel to know – for sure – that your greatest days are behind you?

Andy Murray – who has announced he will never play singles again – died his first death at Wimbledon last week. And the 37-year-old really went kicking and screaming: “It’s hard because I want to keep playing, but I can’t,” he told the crowd on Centre Court on Thursday. “Physically it’s too tough now. I want to play forever. I love the sport. I don’t want to stop.” For some watching, the occasion did feel like a bereavement. Spectators were in tears; there was talk of “grieving” and “trauma”. This is telling about what Murray has come to mean to us. In the greatest era of men’s tennis, he was the mortal sent to battle the holy trinity of Roger Federer, Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic. The fact that he sometimes prevailed was heartwarming and profound and stirring.