Amazingly This Summer

It was just like the summer. The two women across the aisle from me on the train were talking about the Olympics. At a guess, I’d say they were in their seventies. One was hoping that the Christmas television schedules would give her the opportunity to see some events once more, and to catch up on the gymnastics which she had mostly missed. Both agreed they would happily forgo seeing Macca’s performance again. “He’s past it,” said one. “Yes,” agreed the other. “Why didn’t they have Robbie?”
Names of Olympic champions littered their conversation; the excitement; the buzz of those wonderful weeks. Only one presenter got a mention, the new national treasure that is Clare Balding. What that woman has achieved for gay respect is incalculable, and it would have been unbelievable twenty years ago, even fifteen, probably ten, maybe five.
I am still having my own personal debate about who I should most like to be named BBC Sports Personality of the Year. My longlist has included Chris Hoy, Hannah Cockroft, Bradley Wiggins, Jessica Ennis, Andy Murray, Mo Farah, Ellie Simmonds, David Weir, Jonathan Cox.
But I am going for David Weir. The London Werewolf blew my socks off. He was utterly amazing. Watching him race, and this was just on a very small television, is something I believe I shall never forget. You don’t win four gold medals in his sport at one paralympic games without being someone quite extraordinary.
And now, just to remind you of how wondrous the whole games were, a couple or six photos from this summer.

The Stadium

Murder Ball

Toppled

The Aquatic Centre

The Velodrome

RUN

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