Well what a feast this is for someone like me who might, just might, have been averagely good at sports in adulthood had I not set my sights on a career in nursing, and then discovered that my legs wouldn't carry me much further than my bed at the end of a shift. We tried we really did, games of squash, bit of swimming in the open-air pool in the middle of Holborn office blocks (is it still there?? The Oasis??) and that was about it. But at school I had loved it all, hockey, gymnastics (at which I was rubbish, but could dream) athletics, swimming the lot and I would always try something new.
A lovely comment appeared on Facebook from someone who thinking they would have no interest whatsoever in the Olympics surprisingly finds themselves open to a raft of new and unexpected things, and perhaps that might be one of the wonderfully positive aspect to all this. Yes there has been plenty to criticise, and glitches with seating and food queues, but it seems LOCOG are onto it all pretty fast and sorting it, and meanwhile we have just been revelling in it all tucked away down here in Devon.
Watching Judo whilst having coffee at the kitchen table with the Tinker this week...
'That was an origami' he said..
'No dad, that was a haiku.'
You see we know nothing about it... actually I do know a bit. We learned Judo in the sixth form on the basis that we were young women off out into the world and a bit of self-defence confidence might come in handy, so I used to be able to do an Osoto gari and a Tai othoshi with the rest of them.
The rowing is top of our list and shaping up into a fantastic run of finals for Team GB, and we will be shouting ourselves hoarse when hopefully the Coxed Fours meet their close rivals the Australians on Saturday morning.
We've had a go at rowing too would you believe and I have the evidence.
Bookhound and I both rowed for Plymouth Amateur Rowing Club when we first moved west after our wedding in 1976, so I know exactly how hard it is to 'sit' a boat...ie balance the thing' and that is before you have even thought about all the multi-tasking involved in twizzling that oar feathering the blade without catching a crab, and the sliding up and down on the seat with your feet tied into the shoes. The thing is you can't stop in the middle of a race, up oar and plead that you are a bit puffed, or the skin's coming off your hands, you have no choice but to keep going, and by crikey it hurts.
This picture was taken at Paignton regatta in 1978 and that really is me sitting next to the back (ahem, there's probably a proper name for that seat ) my hair in 1970's bunches...
This was Coxed Fours (lord knows where we'd have ended up without someone steering) and you can just see the cox wearing a life jacket which he needed and we could have done with one too because, yes, this was rowed right out on the open sea...
Frankly it was all terrifying and very choppy and I suspect at this moment, as we left the beach, my oar was wedged in the sand and I was probably wondering how best to change my mind about all this.
My favourite picture (because of course we still have the scrapbook) is this one of Bookhound seated in the bow...that's it, I knew it had a name. This was the Head of the Tamar race in that same year, eight miles of torture up the Tamar and back again and I took this picture leaning precariously over the top of the Tamar Road Bridge whilst holding a very expensive camera...
If Team GB are searching for the elusive golds they are surely going to come from the rowing venue at Eton Dorney any day now.
Then there's the Three Day Eventing... I can't be doing with the dressage but bring on the rest, and what a nail-biting day that has been watching show jumping when we might never normally give it a second glance.
The Men's Gymnastic team were awesome on Monday, we watched all that too all of which is finally making us master the TV remote as we constantly switch between channels. How apt that Team GB leave 100 years inbetween medals.
The swimming... well we are claiming the fifteen-year old Latvian gold medal sensation as our own given the fact she attends school and trains in Plymouth alongside our very own Tom Daley. He's had a rubbish year has Tom, with the death of his lovely dad Rob, so we will be rooting for him every inch of the way from the tip of that ten metre board right down to the water when his individual event happens.
The sofa has a dent in it, a nice comfy recess, I have knitted half a jumper for Offspringette and mastered the first two crochet stitches, the plan being to teach myself crochet whilst watching. Two stitches doth not an Afghan blanket make, but I am hopeful of progress.
So how about you... been watching??
Has any of it reminded you of your own sporting endeavours??
Dent in your sofa??