Reepacheep's Ramblings V.10

Blatherings from someone who is not big nor clever

Archive for August, 2012

One of the underlying messages of London 2012′s Olympics has been to inspire a generation, and I guess I feel inspired to write a little bit about my experience so far with it.

I’ll level with you, I wasn’t enthused at all when it was announced that London would host the 30th Olympic games, in fact, my main thoughts as a Londoner were “great, we’re paying for something thats going to be a pain in the bum”. I didn’t bother applying for any games tickets, and tended to ignore most of the hype in the years prior to now. I didn’t *hate* the thought of the games, I just didn’t embrace it as Lord Coe would have wanted. A friend of mine scored some Paralympic rugby tickets, offered me one and so I had my shoe-in to visit the park (it’s in my city, I guess I should have a nosey). I was contented with that.

That was, until the opening ceremony.

Danny Boyle was a genius. I sat with my parents, awaiting the beginning of the festivities. Up popped Frank Turner on the fake Glastonbury Tor, and I was hooked from the beginning right up to the lighting of the (brilliantly designed) torch at the end. Well, that’s a lie – the procession of countries was a tad long for my attention span – but I got through it all! It was awesome. I was hyped up enough to watch any and all sports, even those random ones that other countries love, but England quite haven’t picked up on yet (handball, anyone?). I missed out on watching the cycling pass through my back garden that is Richmond Park but got to enjoy the fact that work decided to close that weekend and so I had a peaceful Saturday cleaning out the animals without members of the public getting in the way. I enjoyed watching the cyclists zooming past local landmarks on TV. One up to the Olympics.

It was when a colleague managed to get tickets just to the Olympic Park (no sports ticket, but he had a good time regardless), and the countless Olympic photos and statuses friends lucky enough to get tickets put upon Facebook that my interest peaked in physically going to the games. Late one night, after a evening out, I registered with the godawful ticketing site. From then on hours, even days, were spent watching that little 2012 animation spin to no avail. Tickets for £20 came and went, tickets for £1000 stayed a little longer, but then I’m not that crazy, or rich. I went from being a bit selective (only wanting a medal ceremony/finals sport for under £50) to whoring myself out on that site (maybe I *should* get those £2000 Closing ceremony tickets…?) but still, that little sonofabitch ticket site yielded heartache. My mother even got in on the game, having pretty much the same feelings as me – wanting in on the party going on in the East side of my city.

Friday night, I had my usual bout of watching the little spinny animation, then defeated made my way over to a friend’s house for a party. I drank, socilaised and realised my mobile was ringing. It was my mother -

“WHY AREN’T YOU ANSWERING YOUR PHONE?”
“Erm, I’ve been on the other side of the room. Why?”
“Because tomorrow morning we’re going to the Olympics!”
“ZOMG” (probably not the actual noise I made, but it was pretty similar).

Mum has been lucky in the stupid lottery that was the site and scored us two Athletic tickets, for the Saturday morning session at the stadium. Prior to the call I’d answered, she had sent me no less than 18 missed calls, 2 voicemails, a text, an email and 2 tweets. Yes, even tweets, she was that excited.

Can’t blame her though, I was bloody chuffed!

I cut my night out short (I had to be up at 5am the next morning – ouch) and headed home to try and get some sleep before we headed to the Olympic Park.