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. Continue reading
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 