Well wouldn’t you just know it, I only went and took part in what is probably the biggest moment in recent British social history (no not my next gig which may have to wait until the next century when I may just be about ready). I went down to good old London town and partook in the watching of the Olympics!
I didn’t bother with a popular sport and I didn’t bother watching one where there was any British presence but it was lively, full of music and I was surrounded by peoples of the world (and I can’t tell you if it was the Americans, Georgians, Japanese, Hungarian or Canadians who were the loudest when their man took to the mats; all I know is I was nearly deafened by the cheers and shouts!
My sport is wrestling, freestyle Olympic as first practices in ancient Greece (though I’m glad to say they do wear clothes of a sort these days). Now my friends around the world may well be more familiar with what is a popular pastime in other realms but which comes pretty near to naked fire walking around these parts, which is why our only representative was a lady who until a couple of years ago hailed from eastern Europe (which is fine by the way and I’d have cheered her to the roof if she’d won but she didn’t, and I was watchng the males not the females).
My dear old Dad (who me and my brothers treated to the trip) was a multiple British Champion and actually went to the Commonwealth Games in 1966; he didn’t win but at least he was there. He was very dismayed by the changes introduced to spice up the game including a quite ridiculous lottery whereby if there is a draw in a round one of the wrestlers has to pick a red or blue ball from a bag. Which ever colour was chosen the corresponding wrestler got to tackle the others legs without much resistance – a bit like a soccer penalty shoot out with the goalies legs tied together.
Anyway the show was good and I did a few touristy things like travel the tube (£5.00 a go!), walk across Tower Bridge marvel at the lovely muddy Thames (it is far cleaner now than it ever was though I think you’ll excuse me for not yet wanting to take a swim in it).
And so I departed Kings Cross after roughly 24 hours (isn’t it strange, and I never knew, how three big stations are all so near to each other – Kings Cross, St Pancreas and Euston!). I even managed to find a nature reserve 2 minutes from the railway with a lovely pond, tall trees dripping with summer green and the voice of St Pancreas telling me all about the latest arrivals.
So back to normal life, roll on the next big occasion (no still not my next gig though you never know….).