My Olympic Experience

My sister and I flying the flag for Team GB

This August there was only one thing to watch on television, one thing to tweet about, one thing to chat about on Facebook and one thing to read about in the papers. Yes, this is my obligatory Olympics blog post.

If you were as much as a fan of the BBC parody 'Twenty Twelve' as I was, then you will understand the level of cynicism with which I approached the Olympics. In my head we really were going to plant a chocolate covered Brazil nut in a raised flower bed in Potters Fields and call it 'a tree of inclusivity under whose branches future generations will gather inclusively'.

When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong. Great Britain, I apologise for ever having doubted you. On the closing evening of the Olympics I was stood in a pub in Brixton dressed in red, white and blue, an 'I love London' badge on my chest and a medal around my neck. The pub was full of cheers and I was welling up with pride.


This is what I will remember about the Olympics visiting London:

The Flags (ours and other people's)

I think it is a real shame that all the flags ever have to come down. The whole city had a makeover this summer and decked itself out in Union Jacks and the flags of other Olympic nations. With the waving of coloured fabric we reminded ourselves how wonderful it is to live in such a diverse city.

The Outfits

People wore their nationality with pride on the tube and in the streets. Team GB wasn't just made up of athletes - it was all the families wearing matching Union Jack t-shirts and the people draped in their flag cloaks.

The Race 

 I went to watch a race through the streets, and although it was pouring with rain the steps of St Paul's were full of people gathered to cheer on the athletes. As every runner came past the crowd erupted into cheers. Regardless of the nationality of the runner, or whether they were in front or trudging determinedly at the back, we cheered just as loudly.

The Splash of Glory

 As the runners came past us their feet splashed through the puddles - and splashed me. I never wanted the water to dry. That was a splash of Olympic athletes - a splash of glory.

The Tears

I think I spent the duration of the Olympics with mascara dripping down my face. Every time someone from GB won, I cried. Every time anyone won, I cried.  Every time someone cried, I sobbed. In fact, you just have to say 'Jessica Ennis crossing the finish line' or 'Mo Farrah hugging his step-daughter' to have me weeping again.

The Sports Day

My friend and I went to a sports day held at a local pub. We arrived in full sports kit and swathed in union jacks, only to find that we were the only people dressed up. We didn't let this deter us. Egg and spoon race, tug of war, hay-bale hurdles... we were there. Sadly neither of us are athletically gifted so we didn't technically win any races. But as we left we were presented with gold medals for our 'enthusiasm'. Ok, so I may never be an Olympic athlete. But enthusiasm is something I am quite happy to excel at.

The Pubs (and the Pints)

Every pub in Britain it seemed (and certainly every pub in London) had the Olympics playing on a screen somewhere. We cheered and commiserated over pints. I was sat in a pub in Central London when Andy Murray triumphed. The roar was loud enough to fill the street outside and to make goosebumps tickle my arms. At both the opening and closing ceremonies I watched in my favourite pub in Brixton and joined my fellow Brixtonites in applauding and singing in style.

The Pride

As Brits how often is it that we are able to sit back and wallow in unashamed pride? During the Olympics I felt proud. Proud of the volunteers in their pink outfits welcoming visitors, proud of my friends- one as a make-up artist at the Olympic stadium and one as a dancer in the closing ceremony, proud of the athletes showing the world what can be done with the human body and a lot of hard work, proud of the smiles and the cheers across the country and proud to be living in a country and a city that when it came down to it, got it right.

Living in London during the 2012 Olympics has honestly been an unforgettable experience. I may not be an athlete racing in front of millions, I may not have had tickets to the stadium and I may not have been one of my lucky friends working at the Olympics.

But I was there. And I feel privileged to have been even a small part of something so special.

Libby

Team GB

Like most Londoners it seems, I do not have tickets to the Olympics. Unlike lots of Londoners, my ticketlessness isn't the fault of the oversubscribed ticketing system. I didn't apply for any.

I have a confession: I am only usually a half-hearted watcher of the Olympics on TV and the news that London would be hosting the 2012 games left me somewhat underwhelmed. Even after moving to London the prospect of the games touching down in my city seemed more inconvenient than exciting.

I am now, however, an Olympics convert. I am ordering my union jack flag and plan to wear it every day during the games, accessorised with a laurel wreath on my head and the Olympics rings hanging from my ears.

Although I may not have tickets to the actual games, recently I got the opportunity to visit the Olympic village to watch the finals of the swimming championships - the final round of qualifiers for the Great Britain Olympic swimming team.

Seeing the site (however incomplete) was brilliant and watching the swimmers racing made me feel a connection to them which I shall carry through to the July games.

There are many negatives to the Olympics, but seeing the talented young people take to the water reminded me of the positives that form the foundation of the games. The sport, and the support. The crowd was buzzing and when at the end of the races the entire Olympic swimming team made a procession around the pool, I felt incredibly proud. I didn't know any of the swimmers but it didn't matter - they were representing our country and swimming clubs, coaches and youngsters all over the country.

I always cry when I watch the marathon. There is something about seeing strangers cheering strangers on and willing them to do well that restores my faith in humanity. Watching the swimming I felt a similar pang of pride and awe at what people can achieve.

No doubt when the Olympics kick off I will encounter transport related frustrations like most Londoners. I also stick to the fact that there are politics surrounding the games that I don't agree with. But I don't want these to detract from what the Olympics should, and can be. All those swimmers and all their hours of training, all their families who drove them to training sessions and came along to competitions, the people working to make the games happen - from the builders to students who will be making costumes and my friend Lucy who will be dancing in the closing ceremony - people celebrating sporting achievement and our amazing city. That is what the Olympics will be about for me.

My Royal Wedding Day

Friday may have been William and Kate's wedding according to the official programme, but with 2 billion people tuning in to watch and nearly 1 million taking to the streets and parks of London they weren't the only ones having a very special day.

I joined more than 20,000 other people to watch the Royal Wedding in Hyde Park. Like many a nervous bride, I had my doubts before the big day. Yes, any excuse to party is a good excuse but was I really that fussed about the wedding of two complete strangers?

Standing in Hyde Park surrounded by a forest of swaying flags and listening to the cheers of thousands of people was an experience I will never forget. I saw the shift as people like me who had just gone along for the ride became genuinely moved. It sounds ridiculous, but I have spoken to so many people since the wedding who said to me exactly the same thing: that they were completely shocked by how overwhelming and emotional the day was.

Maybe it was the sea of red, white and blue and the glow of pride emanating from the crowd. All of that glorious pomp and history enacted in all its gold tinted, horse-drawn splendour. Or maybe the champagne, the laughter and the cheering made the day. But, call me a helpless romantic, I think what moved me was the fact that all of these people were here to celebrate for and with two people who are in love.

'Sealed with a Kiss' was the headline most newspapers ran with, but it could equally have read 'Summed up with a Kiss.' Yes I loved the packaging: the flourish that was Sarah Burton's triumph and the arboretum that transformed Westminster Abbey, but that balcony kiss made the royal part irrelevant. This was a wedding first and foremost.

Maybe all the furor created by the Royal Wedding revealed a certain madness, but it also restored my faith in people. We do like to have a good old moan, but we haven't completely forgotten how to have a proper celebration - the kind of celebration that brings the country to a jubilant stand still and leaves a hang over of empty bottles and 'did you see what she wore?' chatter. Celebrating the royal wedding made me proud to be British. It gave me hope by proving that for one day at least we can suspend being cynical or sensible, even, and just be happy.

Will and Kate: the day was, of course, yours. But it was also one of the best days of my life. So here is the official programme of MY royal wedding day:

8:00am - Wake up and put on my pink union jack dress. As it's a wedding day use the excuse of it being a 'special day' to eat the ears of a Lindt bunny for breakfast.

9:00am - dressed in our crowns, the Kings and Queens (aka my friends) are all set for celebrating.

9:15am: Arrive at Leonard Street where we had planned to party in the street. Sadly the street is much smaller than anticipated and the queue much longer. Change plans and run to the underground.

All: We're not going to make it in time!

Libby: WAIT I dropped my crown!

10:00am - arrive at Hyde Park. Can barely move for union jacks and picnic blankets. Open the Buck's fizz.

10:05am- can not miss the opportunity for a quick photo.

10:10am - congratulate the police on the sterling effort they have put in to today's organisation.

Libby: Good job!

10:15am - take place in the crowd behind a group wearing straw boaters and eating cucumber sandwiches.

11:00am - eyes glued to the big screen.

Silence as the ceremony takes place, broken by the occasional surge of cheers and flapping of flags.

All: She looks beautiful.

Libby: Will you judge me if I cry?

Libby's friends: Did you not notice that we were crying ages ago?

Libby: What has happened to me?

Libby's friend number one: You just wish it was you.

Libby's friend number two: There's still Harry!

1:30 - All stand to sing the national anthem as the RAF planes fly past, sending a rumble through the stomachs of the crowd.

Lust after that Astin Martin.

Spend the afternoon drinking cider and eating cake in the sunshine with my friends. Walk through the crowds to check out the celebrations.

Little boy: I'm the king of the castle

Woman: You're my prince charming

Little princess watching two bigger princesses dancing: But I've got a red dress and red spotty shoes. So there.

Little boy: My flag is perfect for digging up this path.

Women: Aww what a gorgeous dog!

Man: I knew this scarf suited me.

Dog: Why didn't they invite any dogs to the wedding?

Girl: Maybe if I run really really fast I can catch Kate's bouquet...

Women: Girls just want to have fun.

Woman solider: And swords.

Women: Yes, and swords.

Queen: Take me to my castle.

5:00pm - eventually head to the bus stop with a face aching from smiling.

5:10pm: catch up on all the outfits.

Libby: What was Tara Palmer-Tomkinson wearing?!

Libby's friend: She looked like a smurf.

6:45pm: arrive home for dinner and outfit change. Then head out with friends for the after party.

Silly o'clock: fall asleep dreaming of a white wedding, a smiling crowd and union jacks, full to the brim with happiness.

Libby