Chené has been out again and this time she shares her first Wimbledon experience with BritMums.
If you’ve ever thought of going to Wimbledon, I’ve got one word for you: Corporate.
Beg, steal or borrow – but get your hands on corporate tickets.
Take it from a Wimbledon virgin who has glammed it with the likes of Pippa Middleton on Centre Court this year: huddling under a plastic bag in the rain on a soggy Murray Mound with the masses just isn’t the same.
As it happens I didn’t have to do anything untoward to find my bum cushioned on a coveted sponsored seat to watch our Andy thrash some unworthy opponent.
I only had to be married to my husband, who won tickets in a lottery at work. I’m hoping this signals a drastic improvement in the perks of being his wife.
The dress code
As I desperately filed through my school run-inspired wardrobe in search of an outfit that would stand up to the potential glare of international television cameras, I panicked.
I had nothing suitable to wear and no time or budget for an elaborate shopping spree. Enter my fairy godmother in the form of Kate Battrick @TwistedSkirt – a personal stylist I stumbled across in the TK Maxx Lounge at Britmums Live who transformed me from frump to fabulous faster than you can say Game, Set and Match. Read more here.
Tip: Heels are a must for first impressions, but take a pair of sensible shoes for later as you’ll do a lot of walking.
Hospitality marquees filled with executives (or scientists in the case of a life science company) can be daunting if your corporate speak is rusty.
As we walked in, a confident woman in a stripy suit held out her hand, announcing: “Caroline, Rare Diseases.”
“Uh… Chené, Household Germs,” I felt tempted to reply. My husband shot me a sharp look, so I mumbled: “Home Executive” instead.
After knocking back a few glasses of Pimms, I was chatting to “Genetics” and “Immunology” like old friends. I didn’t understand anything, but nodded encouragingly and counted my blessings I wasn’t sitting next to “Sexually Transmitted Diseases.”
Tip: Ask fellow guests why they love their jobs, zone out and enjoy your Pimms.
While Laura Robson warmed up for her match against Mariana Duque-Marino, we warmed up our palettes with a choice of Parma ham or salmon starters, followed by an impressive cold buffet and a selection of three desserts, washed down with a fruity Sauvignon Blanc. We stumbled across to Centre Court clutching huge plastic cups of champagne with straws to keep us fueled during the match – watching tennis is hard work.
We returned to the marquee several times throughout the day for top-ups and by the time Murray took on Tommy Robredo, my husband had to restrain me from storming onto court and punching the line judge every time he called a fault in Robredo’s favour.
Tip: Don’t wear anything that is too tight around the waist and take a bottle of water along to pace your drinking.
And… the Tennis
Even if your tennis never got past the rusty racket stage, the thrill of being up close and personal to the world’s top players and the awesome power with which they hit the ball will keep you glued to the edge of your seat.
Your emotions fling wildly up and down with every nail-biting shot, leaving you exhilarated and exhausted. You’re there with them – at some point I was grunting louder than Sharapova every time Robson served.
Feeling the audience’s rising excitement as Murray scores his way ever closer to victory until he finally smashes his opponent to roaring applause, makes you want to burst with pride.
Our day out at Wimbledon was amazing and I’ve already started scheming how to get my hands on corporate tickets to the finals on Centre Court next year! Any tips or sponsors– let me know.
Have you been to Wimbledon 2013? What were your first impressions?
At 43, in the midst of raising an 11-, 8- and 4-year old, she’s finally found her voice (sort of), decided to enjoy her frantic life (most of the time) and to stick two fingers up to anyone, who tries to tell her what to think, say or do… (always!)
She’s a journalist, communications consultant, wannabe author, Chardonnay quaffer and novice tri-athlete recovering from runner’s knee by doing yoga and drinking more Chardonnay.