London2012 - I’ve seen the future…

Dusk at the Olympic Park - London2012

Last night my Dad said something profound:

“I’ve seen the future…”

At first I wasn’t exactly sure what he was on about. He is old after all say my boys. I suppose to them, at the tender ages of six and nine, at 70 years he is old, although I don’t really see him that way at all.

He’s just my Dad - sometimes kind, sometimes hard, sometimes laughing, sometimes cross and irascible. Opinionated, definitely opinionated and like most of those in a generation older than ourselves prone to saying things like: “It wasn’t like that in my day” or “When I was young we would never have been allowed to get away with that” or that old hoary chestnut: “I worry about the future for you lot, I thought we had problems but I certainly don’t like the look of some of yours that are coming down the track.”

So when he said he’s seen the future I was worried. He hasn’t been to London in over 20 years and usually says things like: “London is best viewed from 10 thousand feet flying en route to somewhere else”.

He lives in North Yorkshire, he’s happily retired with his dogs and his tennis and his shooting, his garden  and a fishing rod for when he needs some quiet time.

However, for the past five days my Dad embraced the Olympic spirit and has hurtled about London like the proverbial blue-arsed fly chasing after Olympic events as if he was in the finals of some 400m sprint himself. He’s been to the North Greenwich Arena to see the Gymnastics; he’s been to Lords to see the Archery, Wembley to see the Football, Excel for Fencing and Weightlifting and Earls Court for Volley Ball and he’s wandered in a happy daze around the Olympic Park itself.

And while he has been hurtling about he has made sure than everyone in the family has been able to join him if they want and all because no one invited him to the Olympics when he was six back in 1948. He says he was determined all his children and grandchildren should get the opportunity to experience London2012.

“For it’s unlikely to come round again in mine or your let alone their lifetimes!”

It has been brilliant but the best thing, the most brilliant thing has been his epiphany about the future.

The future for his children and more importantly the future of his grandchildren. He worries about things like that.

His biggest concern is our cultural heritage and the pressures he feels that is under with the seemingly huge influx of immigrants to the UK that he has witnessed in his lifetime. He has served his country in the Army and was privileged enough to be posted all over the world. He feels he is in a position to be concerned.

And if we read the papers and hear of the racist violence and segregation of communities, tales of greed and avarice I think he has every right to worry and to say so.

But he has had an epiphany.

It happened on a DLR to ExCel on Monday to see the Women’s Weightlifting. At Poplar I think, or it might have been Canning Town, a group of laughing giggling over excited school children scrambled on board and sat opposite.

It was like electricity dancing about; those children couldn’t have kept still or quiet in a month of Sundays and actually such was the party atmosphere no one wanted them to. My father couldn’t help but stare.

Right then and there he saw the future.

Three little girls and two little boys not much older than his eldest grandson.

You could not have posed a photograph more inclusive of race or religion the whole nation was encapsulated in that little bevy of brightness, that spot of light covered in union jack ribbons and bows and face paint and T-shirts and heaven else only knew what. Utterly British to the core. It was beautiful and I said so as I sat next to him and he was silent.

I hadn’t realised how much the sight had affected him, how profound the meeting was between him and the future.

But he hasn’t stopped telling everyone since.

He’s evangelical about it.

“They were totally colour-blind, it didn’t matter a toss to them at all about religion or anything.”

It was a totally British thing and he says if he hadn’t come to London2012 he would never have known; come to that nor would I.

Olympic operation!

So a few months ago after failing to get my Olympic tickets and getting all glum and very unpatriotic; I get a call out of the blue from my 70 year old Dad: "Fancy going to the Olympics then?"
"Errr yes please!"
And being as he's my Dad it wasn't just me, it was my boys and my husband as well. A girl's just got to love her Dad.
BUT
My Dad is an ex-military man and this wasn't just going to be any old foray into the London 2012 experience it was going to be a major operation done with precision and plenty of prior preparation
Luckily, I didn't have to worry too much about that initially; but when it came to letting Grandpa and my eldest go off together for the Fencing at Excel I swiftly apprised the situation and realised that I had to make sure they were both well prepared, much to the embarrassment of my son on the packed DLR train to Custom House!
Firstly Grandpa had had grave misgivings about the whole taking-his-grandson-to-the-Olympics-thing following a rather disastrous Sunday crabbing at Walberswick where The Boy was rather disgracefully behaved showing off to a mate.
Then after a marathon Monday watching Archery, Weightlifting and a walk in the incredibly beautiful Olympic Park, followed by yet another action packed day watching Volleyball and TeamGB ladies football versus Brazil, I realised that possibly Grandpa may be a tad exhausted when faced with dealing with a nine year old.
So what do I do?
Remember exactly what my father always says - Prior Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Perfomance.
First I realise that I have to get The Boy to London the night before his excursion to cut down on travel time, avoid us arriving late and causing my father a heart attack, and ensure that both protagonists start the day at roughly the same time having had a good breakfast - one is always more grumpy on an empty stomach!
Then I ensure that The Boy knows how to use the emergency mobile to call home if there's trouble. I have visions of them losing each other and fret that I will have to train it in from Suffolk to fetch either one of them from the authorities.
To limit possible losing each other situations I make them both a picnic so that they can physically stay in their seats the whole session. And of course NOT lose each other.
I repeatedly tell The Boy that he must keep an eye on Grandpa the WHOLE time and that if Grandpa suggests they move in a certain direction to go with him even if it seems wrong.
Me: "Just stay with him OK?"
The Boy: "All the time?"
Me: "Yes, all the time."
The Boy: "Even if he goes to the loo?"
Me: "Especially then."
The Boy: "Gross!"
I give the boy a look and he knows I mean business.
I think I covered every eventuality. Every conceivable situation that could arise. I feel confident that they are prepared. I even personally escort them to the tube station and right on to the DLR heading to Beckton which means they do not have to get off apart from at their own stop - Custom House.
It is a perfect military operation.
Then just as we reached Poplar a stop before I needed to leave them I realised with horror that I had wrapped Freda's Fruit Cake in bacofoil.
Immediately I had visions of my father being arrested on suspicion of trying to bring a suspect package into the Olympic venue. Of Freda's Fruit Cake being blown up on the spot by security, my father arrested, my boy bereft and alone at the Excel with no means of contacting me.
I grabbed the picnic bag and frantically rummaged around to locate the package. I can tell you this is extremely difficult on a packed train and I didn't dare bring the cake out in case I caused a panic. So I did it all by feel and it must have looked so odd! I heard over the tannoy the imminent arrival of my stop. Like some demented escapologist I triumphantly withdrew the tin foil from the cake and hastily stuffed it in my pocket just in time.
I don't think my father was any the wiser but my boy just looked at me and mouthed: "You. Are. Such. An. Embarrassment!"
I think they'll both be OK but me, well if anyone looks at the CCTV I'll be the one arrested for suspicious behaviour!