First up congratulations to Heather Fell for that superb Silver Medal yesterday, and I don't know how 14 year-old Tom Daley has done in the 10m platform diving yet but well done that lad for throwing yourself upside-down off that board. I expect you have worried your mother from a very early age.
What a strange reading week it has been.
In fact what a strange week full-stop.
Think of all those years they had to dig down to the bottom of the box to find the Union Jack and all the moths would flutter out of that pristine, unfurled flag.
We'd worry if when it did come out they'd get the flag the right way up, and then moan about everyone else's National Anthem, and now it's ours droning out time after time and yes, broad side of the white stripe uppermost next to the flagpole every time (at least that's what I was usefully taught in the Brownies)
Final weekend, the closing ceremony and that London 2012 slot and the news is out, David Beckham's flown in, there's rumour of a double decker bus, probably three, and a typhoon is forecast.
All spot on.
Distractions aplenty and I have watched quite a few sports that in the general scheme of things might be classed as boring, but in true Olympic spirit they are compelling.
The 10K marathon open water swim.
I mean just who would do this willingly?
Grown men pushed, shoved, punched and pummelled their way to victory, our man may have been delirious by the end but it was the pluckiest Silver Medal I've seen. It was evil but legitimate apparently to hold your opponent underwater, grab hold of their legs and next time I want underwater cameras too, that's were the action was.
I can't believe that I'd be quite so swept up by Taekwando but I was, we was robbed, and as for the Table Tennis, well things have certainly moved on since we used to rig up a net across the fully-extended dining room table. Action so fast that really we should be watching it in slow motion and when did a bat become a racquet?
I don't know about your TV set but ours is on the brink of spontaneously combusting, you could boil a kettle on it I'm sure.
Evening reading time at a premium on a daily basis for obvious reasons after a day of watching feats of physical endurance that push a Bookerthon longlist read into insignificance. However trust me, endurance of a different calibre required this year with a list that is throwing up a few strong candidates for my shortlist but even more that have sadly plummeted off my radar. So different to 2006/7 where every book had its merits. Eventually, as I slog on through, I realise I am not enjoying the read, my form is poor for this particular book and best to pull out. Nothing will persuade me to read a book under those circumstances, I just get miserable. Then add in the news that I'm taking the blog on a very exciting trip in a couple of weeks, with a superlative pre-reading list that I can't wait to start, and you can see the dilemma.
It's unfair to pontificate on books I've failed to complete but several have had 150 pages of solid reading and I've given a few more than a generous benefit of the doubt 200 in an attempt to find the greatness that the judges must have spotted, all to no avail.
No worries it's the taking part that counts.
So the book I have most been looking forward to now that I've recovered from The Northern Clemency marathon and come down from the high left in its wake, it's time for The Sea of Poppies by Amitav Ghosh. I am in complete agreement with Mrs Self over at Asylum and would go a step further, rooms could well be furnished to match this one, the cover is stunningly beautiful.
Stephen Johnston please will you come and decorate my house?