On the rituals of queuing with fellow tennis fans... For Sunday Miscellany on RTÉ Radio 1, listen to Queuing for King Tut (& Wimbledon) by John Egan above.
My first experience of a serious queue was just after Christmas 1972. Dada and myself took the boat train from Castlebar to London to visit the extraordinary "Treasures of Tutankhamun" exhibition, which after a nine-month, 1.6 million visitors run, was finally closing on New Year's Eve.
As a 12-year-old, I didn’t know much about Tutankhamun, so I certainly wasn’t expecting to have to queue for hours in grey sleety weather along the tall forbidding railings of the British Museum. There was much foot-stomping, arms swinging and hand wringing to keep ourselves warm.
Sensibly, the exhibition catalogue was on sale outside, so after five shivering hours in the queue, Dada and myself were minute experts on Egyptology...
Listen to more from Sunday Miscellany here.
