The English are a funny breed.
For the last six months, the papers (and
the pub) have been full of endless whinging about the Olympics. From the
budget, to the extra tourists, to entire road lanes being restricted to Olympic
personal, there isn’t one area that hasn’t been exposed to scrutiny, and found
to be lacking.
Last night, I heard the Olympic flame was
coming past Barnes at 10am. Despite the late night before, I set my alarm,
bullied my flatmate out of bed, grabbed a couple coffees, and headed down to
the river.
It seemed that at the last minute, the
British have rallied together. The river bank was lined with people, and dozens
more surged in behind us. It may not have had a turn out as the Jubilee, but
there was plenty to witness this historic moment. In typical English style, it
bucketed down 20 minutes before the boats were due to pass. Rather than grumble
off home, however, everyone got out their umbrellas (or huddled up closer), and
braved the rain anyway.
We forgot umbrellas and got soaked to the
skin. Oh well.
It all starts tonight!!!
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