... she saw, she concurred. Well, I am speculating that she might have done if I'd had the chance to discuss liking the game with her. By 'she' I mean the Queen, who as my fellow blogger pointed out, hadn't been here since 1977. I have heard that she isn't a great fan of tennis, and so sits in the 'oh if one must' camp, a bit like me. Nevertheless, yesterday she graced the lawns with her regal presence, and to me it seemed, wore a rather fixed grin (I would use the word rictus but it sounds a little too Teutonic). But then, what do I know, I was up on the Broadcast Centre roof with a hundred million other people, straining to get any sort of decent view. After a brief exchange of differing opinions with a large Dutch TV cameraman who seemed to feel that he owned the roof and the entire view from it I managed to get a couple of nice hat shots. Honestly, sometimes I am dismayed at my own stupidity. I had a view of the walkway that runs past the building, and could see there was plenty of space to go down and stand right next to where she would walk. But no, I stayed on the roof, and blew any chance of anything more than hat shots. Hohum. Nice hat though. Millinery at its finest, if you like that sort of thing.
I was still buzzing from the day before, the madness of the match to end all matches, and I wasn't overly bothered about getting great shots of royalty. It was an interesting experience, watching her walking through the thronged masses who lined the perambulatory route. Her Maj was preceded by a TV crew and a single official photographer, and accompanied by club dignitaries and some low-key security. There was almost no fuss at all. An anti climax? Perhaps...
History now, as are the photos that I captured yesterday. I did a swift walk around the grounds again, snapping this and that. Submitted myself to another sharp-elbowed jumble sale melee of paying punters and paid photographers waiting for Isner and Mahut to leave Court 18 once their epic battle had finished. The victor looked suitably chirpy, the vanquished understandably down.
I am hoping to get out there again today and continue to record this year's event, especially as from now on the doubles matches start to ramp up, spreading like a plague of eight-legged tennis bugs across all the courts, and I do not enjoy taking photos of doubles matches. Difficult to frame from the vantage points that I can get to.
Oh, and about that not liking tennis thing... I was pretty good at sport as a kid, but never played tennis, so perhaps that is why I am not a fan of the game. I am, however, a massive fan of the whole Wimbledon Championships experience!
I was still buzzing from the day before, the madness of the match to end all matches, and I wasn't overly bothered about getting great shots of royalty. It was an interesting experience, watching her walking through the thronged masses who lined the perambulatory route. Her Maj was preceded by a TV crew and a single official photographer, and accompanied by club dignitaries and some low-key security. There was almost no fuss at all. An anti climax? Perhaps...
History now, as are the photos that I captured yesterday. I did a swift walk around the grounds again, snapping this and that. Submitted myself to another sharp-elbowed jumble sale melee of paying punters and paid photographers waiting for Isner and Mahut to leave Court 18 once their epic battle had finished. The victor looked suitably chirpy, the vanquished understandably down.
I am hoping to get out there again today and continue to record this year's event, especially as from now on the doubles matches start to ramp up, spreading like a plague of eight-legged tennis bugs across all the courts, and I do not enjoy taking photos of doubles matches. Difficult to frame from the vantage points that I can get to.
Oh, and about that not liking tennis thing... I was pretty good at sport as a kid, but never played tennis, so perhaps that is why I am not a fan of the game. I am, however, a massive fan of the whole Wimbledon Championships experience!
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