Tennis diaries

Tennis season in London has begun. We were lucky this year as we got centre court tickets for the Artois championship at the Queen's Club. This annual all male tennis championship takes place as the precursor to Wimbledon.

So this Wednesday the two of us took the day off and headed off for a fun day of live tennis washed down with some pimms and beer.

The Queen's club is much smaller than Wimbledon but very charming. The old Club house built in 1886 reminded me of Bombay Gymkhana and is probably similar to many of the old clubhouses built during the Raj days in India. Like the Bombay Gymkhana, membership is by introduction only making it very exclusive.



We started the day with Roddick, who woke up after dropping the first set and then sailed through the remaining two. The next game was the lovable Spaniard, Rafael Nadal. He came, he conquered and he left. He owned the court for his straight two set win. In a way it was disappointing not to watch someone give him a run for his money. He has the most gorgeous biceps and unfortunately seemed to have a perpetual wedgie that needed constant adjustment during the match. S was not pleased I noticed, but apparently I was not the only one.
What amazed me apart from the exceptional quality of tennis was the ball girls at work. These little girls in bright red skirts and white bikers scurried about the court collecting and throwing tennis balls at a frenetic pace. There seemed to be a method to all this madness, I just couldn't figure it out. We ended our tennis session watching Djokovic and Nalbandian at work, both of whom were equally amazing players.


Apart from the tennis, it was the people I enjoyed watching. Women were dressed in beautiful jimmy choos and summer dresses, men in smart blazers and straw hats.This was a social event where competitive tennis also happened to be on display. There seemed to be a large number of private school types, toffs, corporate types, and a few brown souls like us. I heard a lot of jeeves and wooster lingo bandied about, it felt unreal. The Queen's club felt like a little upper class oasis where time stood still. As the day ended, everyone dispersed for a spot of tea and Victoria sponge. All in all it was a jolly good day of tennis old chap!