The Olympics

What can I add that hasn't already been said much better? What can I say that has even a tenuous link to wine?

We won our lottery tickets so got to go to the Athletics. Caught a bus at High Wycombe before 6am. Easy.

I have long known this bit of Stratford which has become the Olympic Park. We used to sell very fine smoked salmon every Christmas and I used to buy it from Forman's - the original UK smokery. So I came to this, then, apparently half-derelict area of sheds, shacks, old black stained Victorian brickwork and clogged-up canals. I came to see Lance Forman's brand new 'state of the art' fish smokery (and food preparation kitchen for London's finest restaurants).  He was so proud. But that was just before he got the good news. London won the Olympics and unfortunately his new building was right on the spot where in eight years Usain Bolt would leap from his blocks!

Ah well!

I thought about the then as compared to the now as I wandered in the happy throng across those vast impeccable, wild-flower bedecked piazzas in the early morning. Wow! Bloody hell what an achievement. And all those Golds! 

Oh! How I hope all this proof that Britain still has plenty fight and talent left in her does have some lasting effect. I hope it boosts the performance of all of us in whatever it is we do.

Barbara is, I think, doubtful that my sudden enthusiasm for her rowing machine will last much longer. But I'm determined! As I gasp past the kilometre in four and a half minutes I'm already giving my post race interview: "Gave it all I've got, Brian, the crowd was behind me and I want to thank my lovely wife and kids for their wonderful support and total lack of cynicism." 

I'm eating better. Less but better. I'm even drinking less which will probably be edited out of this Blog. However, I've now flown to our home in France and it’s time to go get tonight's one, really good bottle which – in this heat – is going to be one of the new-style, totally fabulous Muscadets from the Gadais family. 'Cos its oysters tonight, and nothing works better with oysters! Muscadet; now there's a region which has done a quality leap comparable to Britain's Atlanta-to-London sporting leap.

PS: In case you are wondering, Lance compulsorily lost his new premises but built even better nearby and even provided us and others with a terrific post-Olympic lunch venue.

However 200-odd little enterprises lost their homes for the Olympic Park. I sympathise because I was once an odd little enterprise under the railway arches. Alongside engineers, a woodworker, bodyshops, and all sorts able to do their bit for the economy thanks to low rents. Dire conditions maybe, but you gotta start somewhere, somehow. And you just pray THEY – the Big They – leave you in peace. But, of course, usually They don't. Think on, Boris, old son.

Nice Olympics though.