After the excitement of finding out that I had transformed magically into dr. shaz we hit the footpaths and headed towards queens tennis club where rohan had a tennis match scheduled with piers playfair, a visitor from the new york club. After the friendly and jovial manner of the security guards at Hampton Court Palace, we couldn't believe the snobbery of those at Queens. They seemed slightly incredulous that convicts from Australia could be coming to play real tennis at their hallowed club. Once inside the woman on reception was just as frosty, claiming she knew nothing of this....hmmm we don't care if you know or not honey, it's happening. Luckily her shift was finishing and the new woman taking over was much more pleasant. She pointed us in the direction of the players bar and the tv room where we could get a drink and cool down before rohan played. Once at the bar we were again treated with suspicion. 'I can't serve you' the barman said - ohhh right, they don't serve our kind here. That is the kind dressed in summery clothes and carrying a backpack. Ah yes you can, we replied, we've been sent here by reception before our game. No, no insisted the barman, security will remove you, you're not meant to be here. We eventually talked him into serving us but we could see he still thought we'd scaled the walls to get in. When we finally met the tennis pro Andrew we told him this and he proudly marched us through the bar and barrelled up reception about the fact we were given the spanish inquisition. The courts themselves - 1889 were quite spiffy and Rohan enjoyed the change rooms which are used for all the racquet sports and have all the pictures of the past winners of the wimbledon warm up event on the walls. Rohan's not so eloquent description was that he had his butt in the same place as Bjorn Bjorg once sat. Downstairs he had a bit of a hit with a jolly old english chap called David while they waited for their respective opponents to arrive.
Finally Piers arrived and although from New York he too was an Englishman. Although a filthy rich venture capitalist, he was wearing his shirt inside out, which just goes to prove that although you have money, you may not be able to dress yourself. Or it proves that perhaps Piers normally has someone putting his shirt on for him.
Rohan and Piers had a jolly old time, with Piers beating Rohan - although he had a lower handicap and they had played off scratch. Piers told Rohan he'd thoroughly enjoyed playing him and if we were ever in New York to stop by the racquets club there for a hit - given that the membership fees there are 40grand a year it may be the only way Rohan will get in there. I however will not be allowed - men only darling. Rohan returned to the changerooms and to the homo eroticism that was a bunch of men standing around nude watching wimbledon on the tvs. This was all a bit much for Rohan, although perhaps he enjoyed the man whose job it is to hand you a towel as you get out of the shower?
Given the hot weather, all of London and the tube appeared to have gone mad, so we headed off on foot via waitroses, where we picked up one of those foil tray bbq's for the grand price of 2.99. Some meat, salad and potatoes in hand we went back to the flat and the three of us had a very aussie bbq with rohan cooking it on emery's little balcony. Emery had a bottle of veuve and we cracked that open to celebrate the arrival of Dr. McDonough - a perfect way to spend a hot summer night in London!
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