Lets be honest. This bejeweled Isle of Greenery upon which the British reside would never have thought we’d be third in the Olympics table with one day to go (except if you’re American where for some reason we are fourth behind Russia). As I sit here with glass in hand I am watching some truely stunning athletics.
We have Usain Bolt. The guy is unbeatable. And GB has Mo Farah. Who? Mo is the man. He runs around in circles and just wipes the floor. All comers. 10000 metres – Gold. 5000 metres – Gold! And both these supermen of running have a signature ‘win pose’.
For Usain there is the ‘ Lightning Bolt’. For Mo there is the ‘ Mo Bot’:
In an attempt to remain patriotic and keep focused on these ‘Isles of Wonder’ (Isles of Wonder? Seriously I know the Games are good but the ‘Wonder’ thing might be stretching the point) I have been trawling the length and breadth of Britain looking for local dishes to recreate. (All this is of course done in the virtual sense. I’m not paying £120 to get a train to Bradford only to find they eat McDonalds).
So first to Wales – the land of dragons, daffodils and coal mines (Anyone noticed that on a map Wales has a profile like a pig’s head. No? What do you do with your free time? Interesting stuff that involves the outside?)
When I think of Welsh cuisine I think first lamb, then leeks, then Welsh Rarebit…and then I stop thinking. I found a recipe for Glamorgan Sausages and decided to give them a go – basically these are croquettes by any other name.
I’m trying not to become a GB (Games Bore) but this I could not resist. London Olympians are being treated to ‘Olympic Lanes’ – dedicated traffic lanes only officials and athletes can use when driving to and from events.
Like it isn’t hard enough to get round the Capital anyway! However the chaps and chapesses that have come up with this amazing logistical solution seem to have cut a few corners:
The Olympics are a couple of weeks away. We are a fairly realistic bunch on this funny little archipelago in the North Eastern Atlantic. We are doing our best but are not trying to compete with the awesome power of the Chinese opening ceremony of 2008 or the perfect weather in Australia in 2000.
But we are obsessing about our Games. And our obsession is all about what happens afterwards. What’s the legacy? What does that even mean? Well on TV at the moment is a programme called Twenty Twelve which essentially rips two shades out of the ‘Tristrams’ (young, well educated, over paid executives) who talk corporate bullshit bingo all day and are currently putting the Games together.
In this clip the PR woman (brilliant acting) describes ‘legacy’ and social media in a way I have heard many times before, in real life: