update of sorts
okay, so I completely lied when I said I was going to retrospectively blog about the Australian Open, I’ve just managed to go through ALL 5205 photos I took and turned them into jpegs. I still am planning on listening to the podcasts, however only when I don’t get sick at the sound of my own voice…ahem
So why haven’t I been blogging? Well, there’s nothing really to blog about really, Twitter is taking care of all my tennis needs, work has been brilliant thus far, and I haven’t really had anything to really bitch about.
Of course I say that and by tomorrow something will have gone catastrophically wrong which will make me eat my words.
Life is currently devoid of any long term goals, short term goals are to get fitter, lose some weight so I can lose the joint issues and improve at tennis.
All in all I’m quite content, not resoundingly happy but very comfortable. Currently I’m in my TV rotation, working on a little video game show which is somewhat satiating my creativity and thus I haven’t found the necessary angst to go out and seek some masochistic activity (i.e updating this blog). I adore the people I work with and most of the work I do but knowing that my rotation ends in about 3 weeks will probably kill all this latent joy and send me screaming back to this blog.
But before then, I think I may enjoy what little solace I have left, grab some more sleep and you may not hear from me till mid-year
depending on how my next rotation goes I guess.
Leave you guys with a photo from the Aussie Open:
The crowd at any Federer practise is amazing, amassed 5-7 deep alongside the entire court, with spectators also peering from the top of the stands of nearby courts. People forget about personal space, courtesy or shame just for a glimpse of a living legend. I’ve been at the back of the throng, I’ve also been lucky to be at the front, leaning into the fence, close enough to lean in and almost feel the whoosh of the racquet.
This shot was taken during a warmup hit before his 4th round encounter with Lleyton Hewitt. I was sandwiched within the throng, finding a precarious balance behind a young boy who was too short to see anything and in between two tall guys. Because Federer was practising on the other side of the court he usually was on, photos had to be carefully taken between a smattering of head, hair, shoulders and armpits all smushed up against the fence in front. But even under the fading afternoon light, framed by the seething mass of humanity, Roger Federer seemed to look into the soul of my camera, almost as if to ask;
“I mean really? Do you think you have a big enough lens? Yeesh, can you leave me alone to practise?”


















