Until Shell and Jules' move next week we are just around the corner from Wimbledon, that Wimbledon where the Wombles live, the place with one or two tennis courts paved with real grass.
With the Championship finals just a few days away, action on the outer courts is down to a few junior eliminations, mixed doubles quarter finals and of course the "Senior Gentleman's Invitation Doubles." On the big courts it's all go go go, although if like us, one was not born with a ticket in hand or able to raise a ransom for a minor kingdom, the centre court action is best viewed live on the big screen to the north of the grandstand.
We've never planned our visits around the timing of any particular event in the past, and this was no exception, but with the competition in full swing it seemed that we had an opportunity to "tick one of the boxes" on the tourist brochures. Supremely confident we were, that having slept in until 4:30 am we'd probably conquered our jet lag in one evening and armed with this confidence we wandered off hatless into the one full sunny day that is English summer.
The phrase 'tired but happy" does not begin to describe our condition on our return.
"Unable to keep our eyes open but happy" is a little closer to the mark, but we've seen the "Senior Gentlemen" at play and tomorrow morning we may even sleep till five,
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Reminds me of the time Ian had booked us seats at the theatre the day we arrived ... went to sleep as soon as the house lights went down.
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