There are signs: a Wimbledon towel in the downstairs loo. Another, faded, in a child’s swimming bag. Maybe a Links of London strawberry charm lingering in the jewellery box. All not-that-subtle clues of a hazy student summer spent working at the All England Lawn Tennis Club.
Most popular
Jawad Iqbal
The tragedy of Cristiano Ronaldo
For two weeks swathes of impossibly well-spoken university students (Edinburgh, Durham, Bristol, Newcastle…) descend on Wimbledon to serve up Pimm’s, flog tennis racquet-shaped key rings, escort players – and clean loos. It’s the summer job to trump all summer jobs. Romance blossoms in the programme booth by Court 12, pearl-clad mothers have been known to kiss the hot dog seller hello (likely to be a Godchild) and securing the position of rolling on the covers when sun is forecast for the fortnight is akin to landing a job in the Magic Circle. For one friend, now a high-earning investment manager with three children, marshalling the Wimbledon queue as a day steward was, she says, her best job to date. ‘I still wear my Wimbledon polo shirt – and fleece – on a weekly basis, which always gets a conversation going,’ she says, harking back to her halcyon summer, where breaks were spent watching five-setters on Court 1 and lunch vouchers were illegally swapped for a glass of Pimm’s. That treasured stash is not quite old school tie/ regimental socks territory, but nearly. Like Land Rovers flashing each other on a country lane there’s a ‘What a heyday summer!’ camaraderie.
