Editorial: Hitching a jet to home of tennis

It was this time last year that, after a couple of days in Sydney, I travelled to London.
My brother, who is employed by British Airways, had organised "staff travel" - taxes only - and assured me that I would be seated in "Club and above all the way".
By the time I got to Heathrow, having travelled on the jump seat (where cabin staff sit for take-off and landing) from Sydney to Singapore - a feat of incredible human endurance if I do say so myself - and then scraped on to a normal cheap seat for the next leg, I was pretty beaten up.
But nothing was going to stop my plan of going to the Lawn Tennis Championships, Wimbledon. It was Wednesday of the final week, and matches were getting fewer.
So after a quick meeting with my brother, and a shower at BA's engineering base, I was on the district line and then on foot to a field where people were waiting in the morning sunshine for the gates to open.
An official came along and handed me a booklet titled, "A Guide To Queuing For The Championships". When I asked him what my chances of getting on to centre court were, he gave me that look that said, "stupid Kiwi".
I was No03804. That's right - I was nearly 4000 spots from the front gate which turned out to be kilometres away. But what a lovely walk.
Within an hour - everyone I later met was amazed by this, as it can take much longer - I had parted with £17 (incl. VAT) for "Ground Only" entry. It was Boys Own stuff from then on.
After initial investigation of the facility's layout I found an outside court surrounded by a large crowd. Squeezing into a gap I realised the great Roger Federer was warming up. My trip was worth it already.
Someone informed me I could buy a ticket for the exclusive courts (Centre Court, Nos1, 2 and 3) for as little as £5, but only when those using them handed them in later in the day.
I went to find where one had to queue for that, only to come across about 200 people already waiting for that opportunity before any games had started.
Then and there I decided that this was an experience, which would not be the ultimate one, but one to be savoured nevertheless.
I watched a fantastic game of women's doubles on the court where only days before John Isner and Nicolas Mahut had fought out their famous 70-68 fifth set. The winners, Vania King and Yaroslava Shvedova, went on to take the title.
To my left was Henman Hill (now Murray Mound), where the big screen showed Federer going down to Czech Tomas Berdych in the quarter-final. Just below that was a Junior Wimbledon match - another blonde bombshell from Eastern Europe making her way. Around the other side of Centre Court a British hope had drawn a big crowd.
I walked around and found the training courts - the ones you see in the cutaways on television.
People say the strawberries and cream are ridiculously priced. But are they? The whole day cost me less than £40.
Late in the afternoon as jetlag began to take over, I moved away from Wimbledon clutching my queuing booklet, my queue card and my ticket - vowing to return.
That day has made watching the current Wimbledon just that bit more special.