Olympic Recollections 3 years on

(first compiled upon return from a visit to the London Olympics in 2012)

It is surely true that as you get older you also get more emotional and over the smallest, most insignificant things.

I am not ashamed to say that I have welled up a few times in the last few days. This has largely been prompted by pride and patriotism over the Olympic Games with Great Britain (and not just London) as hosts.

It started on the drive down to the first weekend of events whilst listening to the opening ceremony on the car radio . Audio only and a voice over attempt at explaining what was actually being acted out probably brought to life only thirty percent of the impact of the extravaganza. Having seen the highlights some days later I appreciate that it required a full on, three dimensional and multi-sensory concentration to be fully appreciative of the attention to detail and mesmerising technicality. All I could manage was a half cocked ear whilst negotiating the M25 in an anti clockwise rotation near Heathrow Airport.

The whole atmosphere around the Games has also been a catalyst to induce a swelling of the tear ducts. Even on a quiet Surrey Hills verge, awaiting the briefest of glimpses of the Mens Olympic Road Race, there was conversation with passing strangers whereas on a normal weekday any opening of intercourse may have been met with a stony silence or a fine aerosol mist of pepper spray. This may have been due to an influx of northerners like ourselves who always take an opportunity to strike up a dialogue with a native population in other parts of the UK.

In a torrential downpour which heralded the arrival of the Womens Race on the sunday we conversed with those who shared our section of the banked verge as though we had grown up together and were inseparable. There was of course a common interest in cycling but more than that we were celebrating the best of British. In me this engendered a lovely warm feeling, a togetherness and bond and I was genuinely sad to leave to the prospect of a return to work the next day.

The hangover of Olympicism (new word- dibs) has persisted and I have avidly listened to and watched the event coverage over the last few days. I have been emotional over the gymnastics, rowing and more cycling and have found myself getting bowled along with the preambles, live action, inevitable post mortems and the celebrations of medal success but also where British competitors have just had a good go against the best in the world.

The negativism ( new word ?) of the grumblers, sceptics and just plain miserable sods can, in this country,  be quite demoralising and was expected to take centre stage given the lead-up to the Games.

The whole spirit of the event has however been embraced by the nation in a big way and this has been more than illustrated by the roadside crowds, a buzz in public places and an acceptance by the media that Britain is at last good at something- putting on a show .