Everyone thinks F1 is glamorous. And from the outside, it is. What could be slicker than a group of millionaires playing with expensive toys in exotic locales on a bi-weekly basis?

But as is the case with pretty much everything in life, the smooth exterior disguises the blood, sweat, and toil that makes it all possible, much like a swan gliding along the surface of the water disguises the frantic efforts taking place below. For every champagne party in Monaco there's a post-redeye baby wipe shower in an airport bathroom stall. For every team dinner there's a solo 1 a.m. supper in the hotel room courtesy of petrol station catering.

Sometimes, however, this life is all about the glamour. And that was the case this week, when I got to spend a week in Miami in the company of one of my favourite paddock people. If you don't like cocktails and sunsets, look away now...