I can’t believe it’s over. It’s really over. It’s only been 2 days and already I feel hollow and restless, turning on the TV only to find a heavy and painful sport-shaped void. How am I supposed to fill the hours previously spent searching for tickets on the ridiculously convoluted London2012 ticketing site? What use is Twitter now it’s (once again) filled with utterly meaningless shit, rather than relevant sporting shit. I deleted my London2012 app last night. In tears.
I’ve got a plan though; my own Games, right here on our street, with the baby-lady competing against the best local toddlers South London can muster. I’ve already crafted a hammer out of an old lump of coal and a coathanger. The paddling pool has lanes painted on it’s bottom and some Ikea steps to its rear. The wrestling, boxing and taekwondo have all been rolled into one; I just need two toddlers equidistant from one rice cracker for things to kick off. The 110m hurdles (duplo and barbed-wire) should prove exciting too. And it’s come in at £6.35 under budget, with legacy aplenty.
But who am I kidding?! Not even watching my daughter throw coal at the local kids is going to bring me out of this Olympic-sized funk. I miss you London2012. I miss you so much.