Glorious

There was lots of Hairy Maclary and Peppa Pig, jigsaws and cuddles and playing of shop.  There was a trip to the swimming pool, Anna and Mummy and Auntie Kate, armbands at the ready, and a trip to the supermarket, Anna quickly tiring of helping to put things in the trolley.  There was so much chatter, so many new words, such a joy to be around my niece, can’t believe she’s nearly two now!  There was planning and packing and making of picnics, decorating t-shirts and staying up too late.

There was a tired train journey to London, a trek on the tube with a tent and a two day picnic and a weeks’ worth of clothes, horror at the prospect of not being guaranteed centre court tickets, jubilation at being numbers 498 and 499 in the queue so having free choice, agonising over the order of play, phoning friends and family for advice and finally settling on court no. 1, a risk without a roof but the prospect of Djokovic and Tsonga and Robson.  There was a noisy night in the queue, Texan teenagers up all night and someone explaining the rules of cricket in the early hours.  A sunny start, fourth in the queue, superb seats and excellent tennis.

There was a walking tour of the Olympic site, not as exciting as it sounds but pretty fun to see the stadium, Mexican for lunch, tennis on the telly, a trip to the theatre in the pouring rain, brilliant show, laughing and crying and then singing our way home.  There was a lazy morning, a Tapas festival by Tower Bridge, a long walk down the river in the sunshine, stopping off at Borough Market (amazing tomatoes!) and the Tate Modern before a tube home, an evening shouting at the tennis and singing along to Coldplay at Glastonbury.

There was fun and family and friends and food and tennis and trains and another Harry Potter book.  It was glorious.

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