Olympic fever

The Olympics haven’t won me over so far: like the rest of us, I’ve harumphed and done some disapproving eyebrow work at the expense and the ham-fisted corporate sponsorship, which is as close to proper British crossness as you’ll get, most days (see this article for a hilarious assessment of Britain’s gold medal in Olympic whinging).

But now we’re counting down to the opening ceremony, and the BBC are showing all these dramatic montages with stirring music, and I remembered that the games are actually about incredible sporting endeavour. Once you fight your way past the forest of compulsory McDonald’s fries and see the athletes, it’s quite stirring. And London. I love London. What an amazing city it is.

I am still concerned that the opening ceremony appears to be set in Hobbiton, with lots of pseudo-peasants in hippy dresses wandering around with sheaves of wheat. But they’ve just started playing Elgar, and oh, I just couldn’t resist it anymore. COUNT ME IN, OLYMPICS. Pass me a flag.

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