London 2012 Olympics. Gosh, we did that well, didn’t we? We’ve smashed our Beijing record, we’re good at more than one sport (that only posh people learn at school, in any case), and beyond all hope and expectation, the public transport system didn’t grind to a shuddering halt.
Hasn’t it been exciting? Aren’t you glad you stayed in London for it? You’ve not even really begrudged having to hear Heather Small belting out that God awful song, or being reminded about the continuing existence of Brian May, and his resistance to hairdressers for a staggering 36 years.
(Don’t read this bit, Mum) You regret bunking off PE at school now, don’t you? A bit. It’s probably too late now, isn’t it? But WAIT! There are some oldies competing in the Olympics. You can be FOURTY and still row. What about the lass who only started rowing four years ago? I could be an Olympic rower. Except that I don’t really like rowing very much. I like the look of the Velodrome, but I don’t really like spin classes and it’s the same thing, right? I reckon windsurfing could be fun. But how the eff do you get into that..?
My stream of consciousness was interrupted by Maya, an inspired/generous with praise friend and colleague, as we wandered back from watching the Olympic triathlon triumph of the remarkable Alistair Brownlee. I say remarkable, really just because he won a gold medal, which I believe to be difficult, but I don’t really know that much about triathlons and what constitutes as remarkable in this context, if I’m honest.
“Why don’t you try every Olympic sport and write a blog about it?”
YES! YES! I’LL DO THAT AND THEN I’LL GET REALLY GOOD AT ONE OF THEM! So that’s what I’m doing.
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