I should preface this by saying that I know the ceremony last night was not all bad, and I also acknowledge that the closing ceremony is not there to do the same job as the opening ceremony. But anyway, here goes.
As a newly minted commuter into London I will happily admit that, three weeks ago, I was looking forward to the Olympics with a sense of trepidation. Horror story predictions about the transport system abounded, security was a massive issue, and whenever it was discussed the conversations usually ended with a slight sigh and the phrase “I’m sure it won’t be that bad”.
And then it started. The opening ceremony was, in my opinion, fantastic: an imaginative, sweeping vista showing the world what Britain is all about. Or, maybe, should be all about.
The following two weeks of athletics was the only Olympics I remember being interested in. I…
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