(no subject)

Dear Andy,

WE ARE NOT AMUSED. Idiot. -_-

No love at all for the rest of Wimbledon,

Clo

I knew I should've buried my lucky socks surreptitiously on Centre Court, since they did such wonders for Marat. Goddammit. And they got Roger through in straight sets, no matter how much I yelled "C'mon Robin!" because I really wanted another set of Roger (kindoftrouble thought I was weird cheering against my favourite player. My adoration of Roger has many conditions and is... complicated. But it can be summed up in: I am always happy when he wins.)

In other news, am home despite the bastards at Crewe cancelling my train when we were all freaking sitting on it and making me wait an extra half hour. I hate them so much, even though it was kinda my fault for missing my direct train from London. But mainly, they cancelled my train and are utter bastards and I hate them. Yes. Also I'm home from three glorious days of Wimbledon and another of Doctor Who exhibition and Paperchase and general awesomeness apart from a certain American... and I have to work tomorrow. Work five days a week without another break until October in fact. It really sucks.

But the pictures kindoftrouble and I - mainly kindoftrouble though - took over the three days? Are beautiful. I loved our amazing seats so much. I'm actually considering paying for my LJ again, just so I have the Scrapbook to upload the shiniest of mine to without resizing them. LJ hasn't done anything really really stupid for a while and I get paid tomorrow... I'm still just a little wary of LJ. I don't know; I'll think about it tomorrow. If I don't do that I'll upload them to Photobucket or something.

I'm off to sink into a bath now. I'm actually tired enough to be dizzy, which is another reason I hated them for cancelling my train. I wish it was tomorrow night already and I had time to sleep. But... shiny Roger pictures make up for a lot. He is so pretty. Really. No matter how much I cheer for the other guy out of sympathy, Roger Federer in all his spectacularly ridiculous idiocy, with his monogrammed belt and clothes and personal chef flown in specially... he is awesome. He is my awesome, adorable, badly dressed, over-monogrammed, beautiful ponce. (I really need my 'poncey Roger' icon back for this post. Again, tomorrow.) I am so happy that I've seen him and he was just a few feet away and I did not embarrass myself too much, except for singing 'Cardigan Man!' to the Batman theme tune loud enough that it's entirely possible he heard us. But. He'd never recognise me again, so it's fine. You know, it's not like it put him off the match. :D

I'm sad I have to wait another year to be at Wimbledon again. There is nothing else like it. It's wonderful.