And the gold goes to.....

The repetitive strain injury is worth it.

As you'll recall, I spent most of our holiday in Devon hitting the refresh button on the London 2012 Ticket website. Either on my laptop or on my phone depending on our proximity to an electric socket, or both simultaneously just to really increase my chances. I have always been fairly determined and I can quite categorically state now that persistence pays off. When my obsession was becoming a little annoying and The Boy was on the verge of leaving me, those magic words came up. "Ticket available - you have 3 minutes to complete this screen". Frantically I rummaged for my debit card realising that I was logged in as The Boy and he was out and had rather cunningly taken his credit card as far away from me as he could possibly get it. (incidentally, the Monkey even takes the piss out of me now. He came up to me today and shouted rather frantically "Where's your credit card Boy, where's your credit card??" and then wet himself laughing. I struggled to connect this outburst to anything even vaguely familiar and then realised he was parroting my attempt to finalise my ticket). You'll notice that it said "ticket" in the singular. I did try to apply for two, I really did, but weirdly I only got one. Shame. I had to go on a big adventure on my own.

So, what a night. I arrived at the Olympic Park in plenty of time (no ankle-biters or husband to slow me down), availed myself of a couple of cold beers, sat in the baking sun then wandered down to my seat. To be fair, I had spent the GDP of a small country on my ticket so it shouldn't have come as a surprise to find out it was a good seat. But, wow, front row?? I promptly broke the world record for over-excitement. Rather predictably I went on probably the only night where we didn't win a medal but who cares. In fact we even got disqualified but I saw a couple of world records and smelt the sweat of the American relay team so it was all worth it. Honestly, it was a night I shall never forget. 

OK, so it's not Team GB but close
enough to see their nostrils twitch

This week as a consequence of the Olympics being over, I am more than a little bereft. In fact, the whole country seems to be a little down and despondent so just as well that the next post I do will be at 3am from my hotel room in Auckland when I've already been awake for 2 hours. Something to look forward to. At least the kiwis can't take the piss out of me for belonging to a nation who are crap at sport. I'd like to remind my good friends that we came 3rd in the medal table with 29 golds, they got 6 and 5 of those were in sitting down sports. The Australians only got 7 but apparently the reason is that they always perform better when their currency is weaker hence their relatively shocking performance this time round. There are many methods of calculation employed to manipulate results and make things seem not quite as bad as they initially appear. Take this for example Brian Dawes, an Australian statitician has ground breaking news for us. He calls it the MAP methodology:

 "Based on a crafty combination of medals won, athletes in your team, and your country's population, I am please to advise that the real winner of the London Olympics is Australia!"

Using the formula, medals won multiplied by athletes in your team divided by home count population (MAP), here are the top four:

1. Australia 632
2. Great Britain 565
3. Hungary 268
4. Russia 250

Team USA scored a measly 175, and China only 23.

So, that's ok then.

Antipodeans know your place - The natural order of things......

As I have been so inspired by my new hero "Mo", yesterday I ran 12km. As a consequence, today I am having to nurse my aches with a bottle of fine Australian Chardonnay (no, seriously, they do exist) while I wait for The Boy to return from the cricket at Lords where he has been busy high-fiving Yohan Blake. My 420 quid got me within sniffing distance of the American relay team. His cricket ticket got him palm on palm action with "The Beast".

Hey Ho. Next week I will be mostly on a plane, in NZ and enjoying a one-night stopover in San Francisco on my way home. Unfortunately I had forgotten about this when I bought my athletics ticket so I am being forced to check into Alcatraz.

The best thing about trying to do all these firsts is that you live in a state of perpetual excitement. And poverty. But life's too short....