I’ve been discussing with Rafan today one of my little life theories ... that we all have “pockets in time” when we are truly happy; when you are experiencing something so good, so fabulous, that its over with in a flash and you can barely believe either whilst its happening or when its over, that it actually did occur.
Well, Rafan and I today had one of those moments.
We planned a little jaunt to London town for a good, old girlie weekend. Friday was taken up with lunch (inclusive of chocolate éclair) outside in the sunshine in Kensington, followed by a visit to the Victoria and Albert museum whilst we both waxed lyrical and I stifled the sobs over the Grace Kelly collection. Her fabulous clothes, bags, shoes and hats. Perfect. Then it was off to Leicester Square to catch the latest Sex and the City movie. Now neither of us had great expectations of this film, being both (a ) MASSIVE fans of the series and (b) HIDEOUSLY disappointed with the first movie. But it was an absolute hoot. Laughs, tears, glamour, great shoots and a good story line that never had us twitching in our chairs. Following that, we went for pizza and beer and made the trek back to the hotel.
Saturday was the day we had planned to go to Wimbledon. We had planned lunch with our Rafateer friends – Pearl and Mrs L – in Wimbledon village (seeing as they live 10 minutes away) which meant that we had decided to go to the All England Club before-hand, just to see who, you know, we might *spot*. By the time we had got round to the Player’s Entrance - the doorway to which is shielded by a fence covered in the famous ivy - we could already see that Rafa had arrived and was waiting to have his bags checked and be let through by security. Dash and damn it!! We had missed him arrive by probably a matter of minutes!! Anyhow, I managed to shout out “Good Luck, Rafa”, but there was no reaction. We hung around to see what other players we might catch, and we saw the lovely Juan-Carlos Ferrer, Sharapova, Isner, Baghdatis, Tsonga – and that’s as much as I can remember. Time came for lunch, and we had a very agreeable time catching up and laughing and joking before heading back into the city.
That evening we had booked for El Cambio de Tercio ... a restaurant that Rafa often frequents when in London town and mentions quite often in his blogs. So it was our “hommage” to fangirl-dom and off we went with a hope in our hearts that *you-know-who* might turn up for a night there, but we were to enjoy it, regardless. And we did ... the restaurant is small and intimate, Spanish in decor and flavour and with what felt like half of Spain in there. We were lead to our table and *screams* *somersaults*, we immediately clocked Deliciano Feliciano Lopez 3 tables down. I then clocked Rafan’s latest squeeze from Eastbourne – Nico Almagro – in the table behind us ... so whilst we didn’t have the main course, we had a delicious starter and a bleurgh fish course (he he). Deliciano’s table was in a bit of an alcove, and whilst I could keep giving him the passing look, poor old Rafan missed out. However, when he got up to leave ... OMG we were treated to the full magnificence of him. The tallness, the cheekbones, the hair, the eyes and ... his fabulous ass contained beautifully in a good pair of jeans. Heaven. Rafan was nearly choking on her bubblegum ice cream dessert as he stopped right behind my chair to acknowledge a couple of fans and if I had leant backwards, I would have actually touched that magnificent muscle!! Erm readers ... his ass, not his hmm hmm!! Do we need to mention the food?? Oh OK, slightly pricey but it was also a tremendous meal ... fantastic food. So when it was all over, we marched towards South Kensington station with our tummies full and our hearts swelling and chuckling away on what a good evening we had had.
And so to Sunday morning. Our original plan was to be all cultural and visit the Henry Moore exhibition ... but stuff that, Rafa was in town!! As I’ve reported, we missed him by minutes on the Saturday morning by arriving at 10.30 am, so we decided that we would get there half an hour sooner, just in case this creature of habit kept to the same plans. We’d covered miles in the previous 2 days, had a couple of late nights and a lot of fun, so dragging our tired old selves up those hills of Wimbledon was a fair old task of endurance. Well, it was for this old Dame as Rafan was trouncing ahead on adrenalin. So we got there at 10 am and waited at the gate to the Player’s Entrance. There wasn’t another soul to be had, I tinkered with the idea of sitting down on the kerb to wait, but knew that my old bones wouldn’t make the trip back up, so elected to stand.
And then just 20 minutes later it happened ... it was like this sceptre of light was upon us ... a heavenly mist descends, and an angel in white tracksuit bottoms and a lilac velour top with his signature bulls horns comes walking down the hill ... flanked by his trusty steeds – Toni and Mayo. Its amazing that whilst I can still see the pictures in my head, the next events become blurry, because although you can see it all happening, it just takes on this dream-like quality. Another two guys appeared who looked like groundsmen for the Club and he signed pictures for them. But then it was just me, Rafan ... and Rafa.
He was there before us, but he was ready for work. The serious face was on, that ‘game face’ that we all know so well. He was very polite and accommodating, but Rafan and I were mindful all the time of our own manners, and not to make too much of an imposition. He signed a campaign book I have of the AW77 ads (my favourite) and I got his full signature. He signed a tennis ball for Rafan that Marc hit to the crowd last week at Queens and she managed to retrieve, along with signing a Wimbledon bear. Rafan asked politely if she could possibly have a picture, which he agreed to – and I did the honours – but then he started on his way and my heart pounded cos I so wanted one too, so Rafan squeeked up and he looked at me and said something ... maybe it was ‘you too?’, and he walked back to stand with me. I think I said something like, “so sorry to impose, Rafa. Thank you, thank you” ... and he put his big bear paw in the small of my back and then “click”. I said ‘thank you’ again and then I’m so glad that I managed to get out ... “Good luck, Rafa. You can do it!” But there wasn’t a sound from him, just a bit of a look ... and off he went to his work.
After its all over, you feel like kids again. To laugh and to hug and to high 5. And then we sat on that kerb (irrespective of the bones) to look at our spoils and laugh some more ... whilst a photographer took our picture – so if we appear in some local rag, what a pair of muppets we will look. But once again ... we are so lucky, lucky, lucky to have this experience. To love tennis and to follow and love a player that is so giving of his time. Someone who is going about his business, and is serious about his work ... but he’ll still take those moments out to greet his fans. And to allow them to have these momentous events to treasure.
So what a great weekend, topped to perfection by our lovely, lovely Rafa. He truly is such a special person, and from the highs experienced in Rome, to today’s meeting ... I cannot believe just how lucky we were. All down to him.
The serious business of Wimbledon starts tomorrow. Rafa will be playing on Tuesday as second seed. He wants this trophy back so badly ... and there’s two ladies floating on a cloud right now who want it so much for him too.
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