Running, jumping and batting balls!

Blimey! Another week has gone past and yet again I am coming to my blog late in the day. It’s a good sign, as writing regularly tends to mean that my workload isn’t demanding enough and I’d actually rather be running around madly than sat yawning and clock watching!
I was still babysitting for my colleague on Monday and then on Tuesday I went to Wimbledon. Woo hoo!!! So, me being me I had already formed a very comprehensive opinion of Wimbledon in my mind. I was adamant it was ‘not my thing’ whenever anyone mentioned that I would probably get some tickets as a thank you from my boss. Pah. Who, me? Grace the grand arena for Sloaney Ponies, West London Wankers, public schoolboy inbreds and Septic Tank wannabes? I don’t think so.
Anyway, when D (my boss) came back from his latest holiday, speeding round Italy in a classic Ferrari (as you do!) he was on top form and clearly wanted to show his appreciation by offering me a ‘gift’. Well if you can count asking me if I used a filofax as proffering a gift, to which I promptly replied, no, the pda and handheld have long since made them things redundant. He slunk back into his office/lair with the beautiful Italian leather one he had in his hand that he’d been given by the racing team he’d been with. Shucks, thinks I. Yes it was a freebie but he did offer and now he’ll think me an ungrateful bitch.

About 10 minutes later he emerged and said ‘you in on the 29th’. To which I replied ‘of course’ so he said ‘fancy taking Miss D [my colleague] to Wimbledon?’ How churlish would I have been to have said no, I hate tennis! Of course, says I, fixed grin at the ready and that was that. As a debenture holder he had prime seats, opposite the Royal Box and the whole shebang included car parking, 3 course lunch in their best restaurant and afternoon tea.

Anyhoo. Miss D and I set off from the office about 10.40 and had a traffic-free glide down to the ground. When we got there and parked up they even sent a golf buggy to ferry us to the main gate which was most definitely superfluous (it took 5 minutes to walk) but fun all the same!!! When we got in to the ‘compound’ we headed straight for lunch and had a hilarious conversation with the head receptionist who had moved our table so that we weren’t sat next to ‘that vile John Mcririck’ for which we were both very grateful.

Lunch was superb – served by the sort of late teens that are spewed out by the minor public schools, whose parents don’t think themselves too grand to have decent manners and are therefore incredibly sweet and polite. After stuffing that lot down we went straight to Centre Court and, thanks to Miss D bringing binoculars for us both, set about people-watching. Oh what fun I had! The Majors were bang opposite us and Norma sat regally, like the Queen through a whole afternoon of tennis. Either she’s on some sort of tranquilizer, John really is that deadly dull or she had spotted Edwina Currie and was plotting her revenge. The tennis itself was good and we watched two ladies’ matches (Serena Williams has nails the like of which I have only ever seen before down Lewisham way), a men’s doubles and then a couple of games of Navratilova and other veterans before heading home. When we popped off for afternoon tea we also did a tour of the grounds and saw all the famous bits like Henman Hill and the champagne bar. Miss D has been going for many years and was the font of all knowledge, so I couldn’t have asked for a better escort. The extra bonus was that we got back to her car just in time to listen to The Archers whilst we sat in the traffic leading out, and had a fine journey back to Chelsea.

So, aside from eating all the fish, cake and scones that could be thrown at me, I also had to eat my words. Wimbledon was great. I got really into the matches, loved watching the audience and managed to only get mildly irritated with the other folk on a handful of occasions all day. It was a genteel, refined and grown up way to spend a day and I admit that I would have loved to go back today to see Murray v. Nadal. It’s not often that my preconceptions are totally and utterly quashed, but this was one of those rare occasions.

Anyway, the weekend beckons which means an early start tomorrow and a trek across London to the start of my 10k that I’ve been working towards. I’ve managed to get a really decent amount of sponsorship this week so the pressure is on! That said, I need it to make sure I don’t turn over in bed and go ‘fuck it’ so I’m very glad.