1. I’m considering calling the baby Seb.
2. I’m in for a marathon not a sprint.
3. I’m not going to get to the Olympics.
Well, one of the above is definitely true. And although a new baby didn’t make any difference to my prospects of tickets, it does mean I may have more trouble getting to some of the other wonderful things going on in and around London.
So if you’re still in the camp that this headline is aimed at (London Evening Standard, yesterday), I beseech thee to wake up and smell the elixir of fun.
I know it’s not a natural thing to do. I know you have concerns. But come on people, this is the sparkle that makes life good – the times you look back on and think, bloomin’ heck that was great! Times like when you queued forever to see your first gig at Wembley Old Stadium. You got sun burnt, your bag got nicked and you missed the last train home. But you were only two people away from Prince (insert relevant idol of youth)!
Hopefully, you’ll look back on this in years to come and forget about the money stuff and remember with fond happiness the way Team GB picked up medals like they were hot cakes. And in the same way we lament the passing of 1966 in world cup football trophy terms, it’s likely to be a moment in history that doesn’t come around again any time soon. This is our greatest chance to get behind our athletes and embrace what lies ahead. C’mon!
