Where will you watch the Opening Ceremony?

It’s July and that can only mean one thing. The surreal prospect of a home games is very nearly here. And like the mind-bending feeling of carrying a baby in your tummy one day and then holding the very same baby in your arms the next, I just can’t get my head around that fact. In just a few weeks, I’ll be sitting in my living room getting goose bumps like I always do on any Opening Ceremony night. Only this time, the goose bumps will have goose bumps.

The excitement I always feel since experiencing Sydney 2000 at firsthand comes rushing back to me. But this time, it will be special again. This time will be just as important to me as being on the ground surrounded by world-class athletes, watched by the eyes of the world. My sense of national pride and achievement will be off the podium. I expect my other half may decide to hide in another room.

So what I’d like to know from others is how you’ll be watching the Opening Ceremony? Now that Eurovision parties and Big Brother parties have become the norm, I wonder if Brits will embrace the London 2012 Opening Ceremony in the same way they braved the grim Diamond Jubilee weather back in early June. And will they make fancy dress compulsory? Will the streets of London be witness to gaggles of ‘sporting stars’ spilling out of Fitzrovia and Soho pubs long into the night? I like to think so.

Most people I know have very young children and babies these days, so I expect the event will be low key for them. I personally plan to buy a sofa picnic made up of all my favourite food and drink from around the world. Then I’ll have my union jack at the ready (recycled from Queenie’s street party) and a big box of tissues on hand to cope with the only house guests I’ll be having that evening: a grand mix of nostalgia, excitement and hormones. Bring it on!

Tickets, PLEASE!

So every day at 11am last week, I’ve imagined hundreds of people asking their bosses if they can ‘nip out’ for an early lunch/meeting/phone call while they spend the next hour desperately trying to navigate the ever confusing Ticketmaster website to purchase last chance Olympics tickets. I sincerely hope that if this is you, you got what you wanted.

I had the added complication of having my ‘due date’ thrown in to the mix. Would I be up to my eyeballs on gas and air shouting, ‘But I haven’t logged on yet to get my rowing tickets!’ or would I have to just take what I could get on day one? I decided with the latter as the disappointment would likely have matched the pain of delivery. (I know, I’m crazy).

So I still haven’t given birth to my Olympic baby (due to be born at Stoke Mandeville – the name of one of the funny looking Olympic mascots in case you didn’t know). But I did press the panic button early and bought Beach Volleyball Tickets on day two of the re-sale. I read a tweet that described the ticket sale as a mass free-for-all. You literally didn’t know if you would get anything in your basket after frantically trying to work out what was still available. (Apparently, everything was that was showing on the site – except, boo! It wasn’t…)

Obviously I’m chuffed I can go – admittedly, it was something I always took for granted when the London Olympics were announced. Am also delighted I can take my Olympic baby in arms – thanks for the u-turn there Lord Coe (see earlier post). Now I can put my feet up and think of Team GB in relative peace..!

The last of the tickets will be on sale this week – Paralympic sales Monday 21st and the rest of the Olympics Wednesday 23rd, first come, first served.

100 days until the London Olympics

It’s all too much. I’m so excited by the prospect of the London Olympic Games that I think I’m going to give birth. Oh yes, I am! I’m due in a matter of weeks and this can only mean one of a few things:

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!

Lord Coe, you were a baby once too!

Right, well I can’t believe I’ve overlooked this but it’s time I mixed my messages I’m afraid. So a couple of weeks ago, there was a huge outcry over whether babies who had been conceived once their parents had successfully applied last year for Olympics tickets, should be able to attend events with their parents. I am due to give birth this summer, so you might think I’m naturally biased about this. However, I don’t have tickets, so it isn’t an issue for me.

But I have found that many people – albeit often our parents’ generation, – do not realise how difficult it is for working parents with small children financially and logistically. And can I add, mentally? Because the former definitely have an effect on the latter. It’s just not spoken about. You might see it manifest itself in the divorce rate of course. But many families have no option but to make ends meet. After all, their children come first. However, I do know someone (my parents’ age) who was at the Priory after a mental breakdown and she was shocked to see how many working mothers were there. They’d literally had their BlackBerries prised from their hands upon entry in the wake of a ‘but I can juggle everything!’ meltdown.

Just last week I attended a two year old’s birthday party and his grandmother was shocked when I explained that, even as a self-employed person, if I don’t work, I still have to pay for childcare. She was even more taken aback when I explained that if your child is sick and needs a week off, you still have to pay. Or if you go on holiday, yes, you guessed it.

My monthly childcare is more than my mortgage. This is not for a full-time week either. I do not live in a suburb of London. Many people turn to grandparents to help with this issue. Not everyone can. And few grandparents would be happy looking after a breastfeeding baby. Not to mention how the mother might feel about having to leave their child so they can attend an Olympic event. It just wouldn’t be an option (probably – obviously I can't speak for everyone!).

Actually, I bridled when I saw ‘expert’ Katie ‘I was on the Apprentice once’ Hopkins, talking about how parents should have to leave their babies behind on BBC Breakfast. How lovely to be so cold about this issue. Or sad. Many parents would put their child ahead of an afternoon of sporting entertainment – even if it is the greatest sporting event in the world coming to our country for a once-in-a-generation opportunity. But isn’t that very sad too? In fact, that’s exactly what it is; a sad indictment of our times. The thought that ‘if you have children, it’s your fault’, seems to be prevalent in society these days. Nevermind the fact that we’re bringing the next tax-paying generation into the world. The next generation of sportsmen and women.

All I know is, in an ideal world, I’d have tickets and I’d take my baby with me. And if they cried or became a nuisance (as Katie H suggested), I’d leave until I’d settled them again. Unless of course, it was rowing or canoeing, because when I attended that in Sydney, it was a big cheering mass of happy people bonding from all over the world – young and old. No Katie Hopkins there.