If You Build It...

In two days, London will host the 2012 Summer Olympic Games.  Do I feel nostalgic? No.  Do I feel lucky?  Not really.  Ecstatic?  Nope! A little cynical? Excuse me?  Amused?  Perhaps.  Entertained?  Oh yes.  The funny thing about these games, is that, they are a mixed bag of emotion, omnipotent, writhing, ready to explode.  Ask any local.  Living in this city is incredible, the world of art and culture at a rivers stroll; a labyrinth of tunnels through it's underbelly where lost souls may wander to their hearts content. But, these games, these games, how should I explain these games, to thee?


Take a pretty green park, turn it inside out, fill it up with dirt, brick it up with grout.   Raise a wooden structure, surround all about... with ten feet tall fences, wired up the snout.  Place our Queen's soldiers at every ancient gate, and we wait, and wait, and wait.


A violin's string, taunt, tensed; her neck bowed, patiently poised.  Bated breath, held deep, swallowed, drawn, released.  That's how I see London right now.  Eagerly searching it's shorelines for an old maestro to blow in o'er oceans, olive-wreath-encrusted hair, pure white clothing of a grecian god.  Think Gandalf the White, the Good, bestowing his blessings upon the city and her god-saken dwellers.   Letting them know, that, -excavating fallen down parts of an already broken East End, flaunting royal hunting grounds like some dressed-up old tart, tossing out allotments, re-routing snaking traffic, playing cloak and dagger with public transport, painting street signs bright pink, well...it was all worth it.

After watching the torch relay this weekend, I felt a gentle stirring of pride, somewhere deep inside.  A flicker of excitement, of wanting to belong.  A yearning, a whispering of communal spirit bought together for a common good.  I know, I know, the horror!  Shall I pass you a bucket?   I love the excitement of a live arena, I love designer logos, hell... yes.  And watching young athletes chase their hopes and dreams?  Mind-blowingly awe-inspiring.  Because, if you strip it all back, flatten these muddied grounds, shatter those towers of glass, shred miles of perfectly manicured grass, what we really have are the purest of dreams,  -of winning, of being the 'best of the best', and behind those dreams, come the gloriously bloody big hearts chasing them.  So I wait... two days, three hours,  thirteen minutes.

Let them come...



A/N:  Summer Olympic Games in London, there's a little irony in our brave new world.  I hope you are all well.  I have terribly busy in the glass sarcophagus.  I trust everyone is still happily writing and blogging?  Reading too, right? Take one large margarita each!  Happy Summer holidays if you are already relaxing back into your sun loungers.  Otherwise, chin up, everyone who has to work!  I might get spanked for using the "O" word on  my blog.  Anyhow, below are a few snaps of this crazy circus that just blew into town.  I'm just waiting for the unicorns to arrive.  - Tx

The handover of the torch in my hood

Manic media truck

Receiving instructions on what exactly to do...
Run...walk...smile

Greenwich Park...during the preparations
Front and centre, the foundations of a temporary arena

Greenwich Park, today. You shall not pass!
(I hope to bring you, the Greenwich 'after' shot too)

Sexy, dirty, rich... the super yachts arriving in town