On Friday night, there was a lot of Jamaican flags in the crowd at the Olympic Stadium. I think it is true to say, that after the British, Jamaica was one of the best supported nations in the athletics. But then Jamaica is a small nation and London, or perhaps New York, are the nearest they’ll get to a home Olympics.
In fact, this must have been the best games for other Caribbean nations too!
On the other hand, Usain Bolt and others in the Jamaican team, were fulsome in their praise of the help they received in Birmingham, where they were based in the UK. Did it help training amongst friends? And did it help the other Caribbean nations too?
We’ll never know for sure. But surely friendships made during these Games, will in future benefit everybody!
Is there any other headline for Mo Farah‘s two triumphs on successive Saturday nights in the 10,000 and 5,000 metres? Let’s hope after tonight’s exertion, his wife doesn’t give birth to the twins she’s expecting. Now that would be a double double!
I can just about remember the second of Lasse Viren‘s second Olympic double in 1976, although for his first in 1972, C and I were pre-occupied with the arrival of our third son. But I don’t think there will ever be another long distance double done by a British Athlete in an Olympic Games held in the UK. And remember, that Mo Farah has spent most of his life in London. But what odds will I get on Mo repeating the feat in the Athletics World Championships in London in 2017?
Hopefully, I’ll see it.
The last few years have been difficult for me to say the least.
Mo’s feat has given me a big lift and hopefully, the thought of seeing a repeat might keep me going.
If there is any sport, I wanted to be good at, it was running the classic distances of 1,500 metres upwards. But I wasn’t any good, although I got great pleasure in watching the classic races as they were shown live on the BBC. I can remember Chataway defeating Kuts , to claim the world record at the White City, Derek Ibbotson‘s mile record and Bruce Tulloh‘s triumph in Belgrade from my childhood. All gave me a tremendous lift, but all feats are small when compared to what Mo has done.
Hopefully, the lift I get will be proportionate. I need it more than ever I did all those fifty or more years ago.
I’ve been trying to get this iconic advert using Jessica Ennis for a few days now, before it disappears.
I finally caught it on a 38 bus at Islington tonight.
The film Keith Lemon is getting a lot of bus adverts.
This generally means only one thing; the film is terrible.
I want to replace my washing machine with a washer-dryer, so I have more space in the garage by selling the tumble-dryer there, but it’s not as easy as it looks.
As you can see it looks a bit tight. Note the floral monstrosity on the right. It’s an ironing board. Real men like me, don’t iron! We pay someone to do it, or buy a new shirt, we can wear out of the packet!
Note how the plumbing seems to have been bent around the washing mashing and the crude stand, that it is supported on. Here’s some detail.
If you think this is bad, then the outlet pipe is a masterpiece of bodging!
I dread to think what you would have to do if the pump above the washing machine failed and had to be changed.
As it is, I think I’ll have to sort this mess out before I change the washing machine for a washer-dryer. I’ll also need to change the crude stand that holds up the machine.
I also am getting fed up with moving wet washing through two doors from the hall cupboard into the garage to get it dry. currently, if there’s a car in the garage, I can’t really use the tumbler-dryer, as the door can’t be opened.
I can’t abide bad design and workmanship.
I took these pictures as I left last night.
In fact I wish I’d taken more.
The Olympics is not an advert-free zone.
Surely these little cars, used to pick up the shots, discuses and hammers are nothing but blatant advertising for Minis.
Yesterday, going to the Olympic Park, I noticed that the New Bus for London, I was on, had this plate on the back stairs.
in some ways, this is a modern interpretation of how all London Tube Trains had the maker’s name and manufacturing date on each carriage.
That’s not meant to be sexist, but I do lack a certain amount of female help and guidance.
Take this morning, I woke up and thought, I’d got a splinter in my foot. If I had, it’s probably my own fault as I’m always bare footed around the house. But there was no-one with the supreme experience of a mother to have a look and possibly a dig. So in the end, I went to Upper Street and asked in Shuropody. As it happened, an Australian from Brisbane, by the name of Gabby was free and gave my feet a quick service. The problem was a small corn, which was expertly dealt with.
So this small problem was solved, but then others have not been so simple to deal with, if I had a woman nearby, to ask for help.
A question though I must ask, is why do most of the Australians I meet seem to come from Brisbane? And why do most of them seem to know a coeliac or two?
Melanie Reid, who is one of my favourite columnists, has a piece today in The Times about how little possessions matter to her now, after breaking her back in a horse riding accident. It is one of her best, but then most are and that’s why she was last year’s Newspaper columnist of the year.
She talks about how possessions and what she calls stuff have lost their significance to her. I would also say that since the loss of my wife and son to cancer and my stroke, there’s one thing that matters to me above all. And that is my brain. If one pair of shoes is more comfortable than another, then they are better.
I used to love driving and now all my cars have gone. But then I have no intention of driving again. But then too many idiots can drive, but how many have taken a train all the way to Nice and back as I have. And how many have wangled their way into the cab of an HST between Edinburgh and Inverness.
I got the latter because of my most treasured possession and something I won’t gve away; my brain. It may not be perfect, but at least all the memory and creative bits are still there.
Melanie finishes her piece about how when being searched for a flight, she started to feel the hands of the security guard and says that things are still happening. A similar thing happened to me, when a young lady pushed her supermarket basket into my left leg and apologised. I said she needn’t, as I had felt it and that was good for my left leg. So we laughed about it and carried on queuing. Perhaps, I should have asked her out for a drink, but that would be pushing my luck. The next time it happens I will.
Let’s hope she’s brown eyed and haired, as I lived with a blue-eyed blonde for forty years, and a change would be nice.