The week has consisted of cancelled flights, lost luggage, neck and back treatments, a barbecue birthday celebration, England football agony, a tractor run and a wonderful dip down to centre court. I’m now officially clean out of energy and fit for nothing more than a few ramblings for your delectation.

It’s so interesting when you are very familiar with one sporting world and the machinations of big tournaments and all that that entails and then you step into a different sport altogether, seeing the organising and the structure simply from a spectator’s point of view.  This was my third or fourth trip to SW19, courtesy of a great pal who receives a couple of member’s guest tickets each year.  Getting the nod to go is akin, I suspect, to getting a wild card pick for the Solheim Cup team – it only comes around every so often and is a great joy.

With Pam Chugg, who yields so much power .

As ever, with the British summer weather, it’s a challenge to know what to take for the day.  This is where tennis trumps golf hands down.  You are allowed to take a cabin-sized piece of baggage into the grounds to serve your every need.  No ridiculous edicts concerning tiny rucksacks of 12 inches or so which are supposed to serve you well as you tramp round a golf course for five or six hours.

And you can take in your own food and drink!  I saw one guy with two bottles of the finest champagne in his rucksack and he was far from alone.  Nothing like that is allowed at the Open Golf Championship.  I must say I liked what I saw at Wimbledon and it didn’t seem to be massively impacting the numbers who were buying food and drink on site.

Apart from the fun of people watching and just soaking up the sheer beauty of the place, the tennis we saw was mesmerising.  First up was a brilliant Spanish player, Jessica Bouzas Maneiro, who beat the defending champion, Marketa Vondrousova, in the first round singles.  In her post-match, on-court interview she proclaimed that this moment was the highlight of her career so far and we all roared our delight, happy to be able to share in it with her.

Jessica being interviewed by one of my favourites, Rishi Persad.  Looks like we’ve returned to social distancing.

Next up was Novak Djokovic, three and a half weeks removed from an operation on his knee – something to do with a misbehaving meniscus I believe.  He was in control from the start so we departed for afternoon tea on the members’ lawn, returning in time to see him polish off his hapless opponent.  We were having the most civilised time imaginable and the ability to close and then open the roof meant that the play skipped along at a merry pace.

Talking of pace, the teams of ball boys and girls moved like lightning round the court, efficient, unobtrusive and oh-so-well drilled.  I found myself watching them from time to time, marvelling at their economy of movement, their synchronicity and uniformity.  It was a joy watching them, never mind the tennis.

Readying themselves for duty – the fabulous ball boys and girls at Wimbledon.

Finally, at around 5.30pm, the new British No 1, Jack Draper, came on to centre to commence a stout tussle with Swedish player, Elias Ymer.  Three hours later they were locked at two sets all and the decision was taken to close the roof again, which takes about a quarter of an hour.  We decided to abort and leave in order to make our way to where we were staying with another pal, Janey, who lives in Wimbledon.  And this is where tennis smashes golf into the ether.  We left the grounds, caught a shuttle bus to Wimbledon station and walked 15 minutes to our digs – and we were still there in time to see Draper winning the last couple of games of the match.  The transport links were superb, quick and easy – not words I’ve ever considered using when trying to leave a golf tournament!

Janey’s is a very sporty, active household and golf has been in her life since childhood.  She played for Wales at junior level and still holds down a sub 6 handicap.  The clubs may have been tucked out of sight under the stairs but the cushions in the picture below were, rightly, proudly on display, catching everyone’s eye.  They were made by her North Wales-based sister, Mo, and I think are indicative that golf still holds the number one spot in her heart – just ahead of tennis, pickleball and bridge!

I’ll have several of each please.

I had been keeping an eye out through the day on who was doing what in the final qualifying for the Open and was thrilled to see Justin Rose had made it.  When I got home the following day I saw he had been recovering from his 36-hole exertions in the royal box on centre court.  The only celeb I recognised when we were there was Jackie Stewart, the legendary Scottish racing driver, who, incidentally, has always been keen on his golf.

I find myself in danger of becoming more like the sister – i.e. in barely giving golf a mention.  I used to berate her for that, pointing out the clue was in the name – Madill GOLF dot com.  She paid no heed, of course, but hopefully she’ll be the one giving you your golf fix this week.

Now, where’s the remote.  Time to see who’s on centre.