It's 11.30pm, I'm watching BBC 1. It's a round up of the Olympics, a version of Imagine is being played to a slow motion montage of all the best moments and I'm crying. I'm howling. Tears are running down my cheeks.
Lots of thoughts are racing through my mind. Will i ever do something that amazing? Will anyone be that proud of me? I'm in bits. I'm emotional. The Olympics and BBC have once again reduced me to rubble. I'm broken. The weepy games continues even after they are all over. And they are over.
Today is the day after the 2 weeks before. It's back to normality.
Oh god, where is the Olympic Breakfast from 6am? The backdrop of the Stadium long gone, replaced by dreary weather bulletins and district line delays. Where is my early morning update on the days calendar or an early morning handball clash between Korea and China?
Where is Hazel Irvine being rather too chirpy at 9am? Where is Inverdale and Redgrave standing at Dorney Lake like a pair of queens sporting hacket shirts. Where is the rowing?
Where is the shots of Brits moving up to 3rd place, or the medal table or the emotional rerun of yesterdays GB medalists?
Where is the Thorpeedo saying 'look' or his amazing selection of camp knitwear?
Where is the excitable radio commentary making it sound like Martin Luther King's 'I had a dream' speech when commentating on the Hockey?
Where is the massive Olympic pull out in the Times, so big every day i had to leave my job just to read it?
Where is the red button and the overwhelming choice of 12 different sports?
Where is the Veledrome and the space age suits and aero helmets making GB cyclists look like super heroes?
Where is Clare Balding, perched on the balcony at the Aquatics centre with her hair blending into the architecturally stunning ceiling, playing the straight man to Mark Foster's camp?
Where are the balmy nights from the Olympic stadium, with inverdale, Lewis, Johnson and Colin Jackson getting visibly camper with every day.
And where is the highlights show with the lovely Gabby Logan. What on earth will i do at 10.40pm every night?
Where are the Mums and Dads who couldn't give a toss about sport asking 'how many medals have we won now?'
Where are the thousands of people bunking off work to line the streets of London to cheer on the runners and cyclists and triathletes
Where is Mo, winning golds and doing the Mobot?
And where is Usain? Knocking off the entire female beach volleyball fraternity no doubt, though hopefully he'll last longer than 9.73 seconds. (Note to girls the sprinters maybe what you like the look of but stick with us endurance athletes. We can last the pace)
Where are the tears and the inspiration that makes you want to run through walls and do something magnificent?
And where are The forgotten ones. Those who passed away, forever being remembered. An inspiration in life and death. The fallen idols.
It's all gone my friends. It's history. It's memory. A large Olympic size hole has opened up in my life. Reality. Back to normal. Life becomes life once again.
Congestion charge, double dip recession, Cash in the Attic and Great British bake Off. Shorter days and Christmas adverts on TV. We have had a 2 week holiday from being us and now it's over. Back to work, back to reality. Back to life. But no amount of Flog It! Or Homes Under the Hammer is going to take away the feeling of loss and emptiness i will feel.
I could watch those montages all day long, i know they are schmaltzy and cheesy but i love a bit of that. Who can't help but get emotional to these things?
We have the Paralympics of course, i tried to get tickets but they are now sold out. It will be the biggest Paralympics ever, so that is a great legacy of the Games right there. So often a minority after thought, these paralympians train just as hard so it will be amazing for them to perform in front of thousands.
But even in my darkest most miserable flat thoughts, At least i can cheer myself up with one thought. Clare Balding is anchoring the whole coverage on Channel 4. Bonus. Her magnificent hair will once again bestride the Olympic Park like a giant gladiator birds nest thing in resplendent glory.
God i love you Clare Balding. You're the only thing that's keeping me going. That and diet coke and gum of course.
x
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