As It Happens....

....amidst 130mph serves, ground strokes that are pin-point precise, drop shots that make your jaw equally hang open in awe...and mind-boggling matches that persevere beneath the fabulous new technology of that Centre Court roof in spite of the temperamental English rain....it has taken much resilience on my part not to give in and visit the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club multiple times because, hallelujah: I still have exams. Which are yet to be sat. And preparation on my part is so slow that it is almost insane.

It took a great deal of self control the other day to relate my experience in Centre Court last year to my Reg and my firmmate when we drove past Southfields and the hoards of people (I threw them a dirty look as we drove past....pffttt) who were flocking to the grounds. I am sure it must have been devastatingly obvious how I had gone from monotonously naming the Clinical Features of Bipolar Disorder to suddenly raising my voice a couple of octaves when I retold my excitement at watching the great man himself, Roger Federer play.

This year, I have deteriorated horribly, so to speak. It makes me devastated to think that by the time I start working next year, I will probably not even know whenever a Grand Slam is being played. I have yet to find the time to watch a single Wimbledon match properly (blame my intense stress over trying to find one last stupid specialist visit ARGH!), and I have totally not been keeping track of my Djoker's performance this time around!

The most I have done is flick through BBC Videos at the end of the day, and placate myself with these:

The.....wait for it......LEGENDARY man himself: Roger 'Fed-Ex' Federer. Whom I am still hoping will dethrone Rafa this year, even if it means trampling on my Djoker to get to Centre Court on Sunday.

And who could forget the Near-Invicible creature this Serbian has become this year: the man who started it all by sparking off my interest in tennis - My Djoker.

So for the moment, as we cruise into Week 2 of this year's showdown of the creme de la creme of all Grand Slams, I am aware of how much I lack the euphoria and anticipation of the past year....simply because I lack the time.

And as much as I harbour resentment against these exams just because I am skewed in where my passions lie, I promise myself this: that next year I will frequent the grounds SO often that by the end of it, I will have exhausted Wimbledon in every possible way, and that means not just having to rely on a recapitulation of these amazing showdowns or ponder on a distant memory of my surreal moment in Centre Court in 2010.

Wimbledon, I'll be seeing you yet. Let's keep our fingers crossed.

Something Old, Something New...

....Something Borrowed, Something Blue.

I must be the most unromantic person in the entire female population universally.

Back in school, when my friends had dreams about their weddings in full detail - down to their dresses, the flower bouquets they were going to carry, the interior of their reception hall and so on, the most I could offer on my part was roll my eyes and declare, in all sincerity, that I really wasn't interested.

When asked to describe my dream wedding in words, all these years later, my response is exactly the same as it was when I was a teenage girl.

I don't know, really.

To be fair, the realistic side of me means that I should probably take baby steps, one at a time, and only speak of this when I actually have a tangible wedding candidate. Yet, to be honest, I am not being pessimistic. Because the obsolete truth was that I really didn't care, still don't...or rather, to put it more subtly, I am pretty much flexible and pretty much up for anything.

Which made me move on to pen down another prerequisite in a future husband:

- Able to plan the wedding and its further minute details.

Lol, I kid.

All the same, a friend remarked that this was a dream practically every girl had had some time in her life, and it was almost as though I was developmentally missing a milestone not to echo this thought at all. Hence, I decided to come up with the bare minimum, i.e. set my style straight.

In terms of my preferred styles of wedding dresses, of course! Because God forbid I will have to strut down the aisle in something horrendously un-Shing in every single way!

There wasn't much difficulty in terms of browsing through a website and mentally short-listing. I was done in 5 minutes.

Elie Saab was a sure-win. I have always been a huge fan, and there is something about his designs that overshadow the crowd favourites of Vera Wang or lately, Alexander McQueen (Sarah Burton). There is nothing about his soft, feminine lines that one can dislike, and even for a wedding cynic like me, I was thoroughly sold.

Fangirl much. Hah!

This gown above, with its flowy layers of French lace, was an instant favourite immediately! (Virtually to me of course. How easy when there is no thought of real cost at hand when picking out an outfit. Lol!)

Moving along the popular theme of lacy bodices, in the style of Duchess Kate Middleton, I stumbled across this sleek piece, which reminded me of a rather Oriental-incorporated theme - perhaps because of the neckline and the cap sleeves - and the Mermaid-inspired skirt was a definite shoo-in. Not really my style, to be honest, because.....shoot me.....I am still a believer of lower necklines in formal gowns, but definitely something more refreshing than the standard A-line skirt and strapless tube top of many a bride these days.

And yes, I contradict myself from my previous line above about wanting to be different from the standard strapless-necked gown and full skirt, but what is not to love about this piece? A true Elie Saab piece of work, if I may, written all over it, with the chiffon folds and the little train at the back.

Now to find a rich Investment Banker husband to con to buy me this *rubs hands gleefully*

Much of a 'Wedding Grinch' as I am, I could probably risk my cool facade and be all starry-eyed and giggly and tearfully joyous walking down the aisle in this while proclaiming that I knew this dress was MADE for me the moment I laid my eyes on it.

Similarly, this gown isn't standard Vera Wang / Vivienne Westwood, puffy-ballgown-skirted Princess Wedding material, but there is nothing about Elie Saab's flowy lines that can't buy me enough to be willing to be that fortunate blushing bride gliding down the aisle in this.

And of course, the Duchess of Cambridge aside, who could forget the woman who started it all. My fashion icon and one of the most stylish creatures the world has ever known: Grace Kelly

Flawless piece of work indeed. Perhaps if I were fortunate to be the next 'Princess of Monaco' in the future (read: marry the tennis player who is actually really Serbian but is based in Monaco), I would cast aside all my dress preferences and proudly carry on this 'Kelly tradition'.

My friends scoff off my cynicism and proclaim that I will be the giggly, blushing bride that I am so distasteful about, and will one fawn about planning the dream-come-true wedding that I have so vehemently veto-ed all these years.

I say: Curse me not!!!

Jokes. Perhaps, if it involves a rich Investment Banker with a ginormous fortune and an Elie Saab gown.....