British and Proud: That’s an Actual Thing Now
My regulation turquoise shell suit / Alice band / long white sock / plastered knee / Jelly shoe combo was á la mode and doping tests only became an issue when Milky Bar Buttons made it on to the banned substance list.
Some dude named Indiana Jones taught me how to tackle the obstacle course. With a little help from some super adhesive Hubba Bubba bubblegum, I nailed the egg and spoon race. By keeping both feet firmly in the far corners, the sack race was also mine and having adorned the entire contents of my mother’s wardrobe several times before – the fancy-dress race was not a problem either.
Had it not been for Sarah-Jane Shufflebottom’s left ankle, I would have secured gold in the 3 legged race too. We came 5th.
Swimming never featured heavily in our school sports days, mainly due to a total lack of fundamental facilities. My selfless offer to loan my inflatable paddling pool to the school for the afternoon was cruelly rejected by headteacher Mr Williams for health and safety reasons.
So with red, white and blue ribbons in my hair and a genuine (made in China) London 2012 key-ring in my hand, I raise my glass small plastic cup of over-diluted orange squash to all of Team GB. You make me proud to be British. As soon as the egg and spoon race is acknowledged as a legit Olympic event – I’m yours.
Oh and kudos to Danny Boyle for the opening ceremony. Queen trumps all.
Well, apart from David Beckham on a speedboat.