The Olympics are BONKERS!
If you’re not proud to be British right now, then check for a pulse.
We are second in the medal table and I have to say, I’ve been hooked on the whole thing. Where do I start?
Gymnastics. Wow. How do they do that. I remember when I was at school, I was thrilled to do a head stand, hand stand and look, I could do a cartwheel leading with either hand. Big deal. Well, it was at the time. Then you watch the Olympics, and to be quite honest, it’s outstanding. The beam. 10cm. Dear god. I have a hard time walking a straight line, never mind doing the splits, and all the other stuff that I can’t name, because it’s so long ago since I did gymnastics. Just to name drop, my gymnastic teacher was none other than Ewan McGregor’s father, Jim. I wasn’t allowed to call him Jim in those days though. He was an amazing teacher!
I’ve decided that the only way I could ever compete with the Olympians, was to challenge them in the swimming. Recently, I have been going to Oban for a swim on a Monday. Only a return journey of about 72 miles, but worth it. I’m a fairly efficient swimmer, where swimming is concerned and week by week (3 of them) I have stepped up my laps. Then the Olympics comes along. World records broken and much sadness felt by myself. I can do 40 lengths (25m pool) in about 40 minutes and I am chuffed as hell. The maths to work out just how slow I am was just too much. Watch the Olympics, wow. I had better keep practising. So, I challenge the GB team to a wine-athon. Feed them some cracking Sauvignon Blanc and challenge them to a race. I might have a chance. Maybe. My hope is that they will be all over the place. I have discovered though, having been to aqua zumba that I’m REALLY good at doing sit-ups in the water. Fat floats.
Anyway, my aspirations of being an Olympian stopped when I knackered my knee when I was 20+. A reconstructed ACL stopped my hockey career, the last event I played in was a European Qualifier in Dublin. We qualified, we all got pissed when we got back to Scotland and had an almighty hangover the next day. Not quite Olympic team potential. I have to say, keeping up with the changes is mind blowing. Once upon a time, you weren’t allowed to turn your back on your opponent. It looks so much better now. Oddly, I still have dreams about hockey, I miss it a lot. Boy, are those players fit. I used to be. Sigh.
Just watched a gymnast do a face-plant on the high bars. Got back up and carried on. I’d be greetin’ in the corner, rubbing my sore nose and boobs and throwing my toys out the pram, not chalking up and carrying on as if nothing had happened. They’re made of tough stuff. Hats off to them.
The physical and mental effort that these guys and dolls put into the Olympics is astounding. It brings out the goosebumps.
The horses; in particular, the dressage. Ballet for horses. Some think it’s not right, but what a joy watching it. The relationship between horse and rider is to be admired and I do wish that some humans could make an awful lot of effort to embrace team work – we speak the same language, horses and riders don’t. It should be easy. I play ‘people’ Olympics every day. We can talk, horses don’t and can’t. Life is about communication, dressage horses rely on body language and voice commands, so why is it that some humans have difficulty with basic communication? That’s an Olympic sport too.
I’m home from work and doing wine Olympics; doing a ‘tasting’ which involves more than one bottle of wine. Sadly, It’s not a have a wee sip, then try the next one. Right now it’s,”How was the bottle, dear?” Maybe we should have a wine drinking Olympics. Mind you, some of my friends and I do that when we get together. I should be given a gold medal for efforts towards Sauvignon Blanc achievement.
Other ‘Olympics’ involve the stretching and sheer determination of some customers on the Filling Station forecourt, which, by all accounts has become a national sport. The hose WILL stretch. It IS long enough, it WILL reach. Not. There should be a parking Olympics. See how many vehicles we can squeeze in the car park without having to use sky hooks. The ‘bounce the car out the way’ Olympics that happened recently, where a coach (of the bus variety) couldn’t get through the gap, so the tourists on the bus got off, bounced the car out the way, cheered and happily went on their way. Brilliant. I left a note on the car’s windscreen, telling them why there were hand prints on their bumper. Funnily enough, they haven’t replied to me.
Then, ultimately, the ‘I will have a whine’ Olympics. That bloody website. I have resorted to a certain amount of ‘subtle sarcasm’ replying to my least favourite website. I have said recently to some people, that I regret the day I started to reply to the comments. Hey ho. One was relating to the presence of ‘tartan’. Also, the price of wellies came into it. I reminded the reviewer that ‘shock horror’ tartan is our national treasure and our national dress and perhaps I should look into tartan wellies. Just to give them something else to whine about (were you aware we can sell you a pair of £20 wellies, worth £20?). I also said that neoprene wellies are great, they are essential for anyone living and breathing in our area in Scotland, and are particularly sexy worn with a kilt. More tartan, to go with the ‘see you Jimmy’ hats, the tartan shortbread and all the other stuff that we sell that has a bit of the colourful stuff on it. Sod it, all that tartan tat pays for all the trees that create the toilet roll that we provide to all the coach, car, motorcycle, van, camper van, minibus customers that have to wipe their ass, when they visit the business. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it. They don’t think about that, do they?
Don’t get me wrong, not only am I proud of the GB team, I am also incredibly proud of my team at the Welly. Every day we have our own challenges, our very own Green Welly Olympics. It’s entertaining, frustrating but, ultimately, oddly rewarding. We don’t, however have 4 years to prepare for it. It’s now. All my team (apart from the occasional grumpy ones) deserve a gold medal. The stuff that’s hurled at us on a daily basis is an Olympic event and a book in itself. Perhaps I should start writing it. I’ve said that once or twice. Perhaps I should just DO IT!
Love life. Live life and don’t sweat the small stuff.
Excuse me, whilst I go and watch the Olympics.