Why? Let me tell you.
1) We made it to Eton Dorney today. The very fact that we made it, is a win. Sun creamed? Check. Shouted at the kids because we are late even though it is not their fault but is ours because I was on Twitter and husband was wiping up the crockery on the draining board (the clue is in the name. Let it drain)? Check. Drive off in the car and make it all the way down the road before husband shouts “THE BLOODY TICKETS!!” and turns back? Check.
The Gold goes to the kids (for being unfairly and royally bellowed at), the Silver to me (for making the picnic lunch which was consumed in its entirity by 9.30am) and the Husband can take Bronze (because he ran out of money for more ice creams).
2) Because we have all been inspired by the Olympics!
Ed made a running track out of cushions through the house (Clever! Using the tools around him!)…and then filled all the cushions with farm animals and diggers and other painful stabby obstacles (using the tools around him like a monkey maybe).
I have upped my running and cycling. Apologies to all the people in the village about that, who are having to see me running (aka dry heaving as I limp about the streets) and cycling (no, those are not saddle bags on my bike, those would be my arse cheeks).
And just now Smudge got really inspired and kicked a football at my face…without warning me. It really hurt (for like 5 seconds) and then I wanted to laugh about it but I couldn’t because I made a massive fuss and pretended it well killed. It didn’t.
The medals go to – Gold for me (for getting hit in the face), Silver to Smudge (for being nice about it, even though he didn’t need to be) and the kids can share Bronze for their “better luck next time” efforts.
3) Much like Alf the Olympic horse who was told his resale value was “not applicable” because he was “too old” now, I don’t think Smudge and I are the Olympic’s target generation for beyond 2012.
Whatev’s. We will make our own up then.
This should be an Olympic sporting event.
Double tandem buggy pushing. You are looking at 6 stone being pushed there, people. 6 stone. We would totally have won in this category too, should it have been an event, as we forced an old man on his bike off the pavement and in to the road. Husband and I fist pumped each other. POW!
Gold goes to Husband (he was pushing), Silver to the boys (they provided the weight) and Bronze to me (for whinging that this little splurge of brown which splatted on my foot was Dog Poo Juice. Turns out (I realised after a few more steps) that it was juice splurted out of a berry we had run over with the pram.
4) I came out of the toilets and hundreds of people (and I mean, hundreds of people) were all staring right at me and cheering. It was honest to God really disconcerting, until I realised there was a MASSIVE telly screen over the loo’s showing the events. The Olympic events. Not my wee. Bit awkward. But I deserve a medal for even considering having a wee and for only having to go once. Once! Public loo’s are the Kryptonite to my Superman. This morning I was as thirsty as a dog chasing sticks in the park (damn you last night’s spicy pizza! *shakes fist*) but had to restrict my fluid intake because I knew it would be a public loo event. Turns out, I would have let the kids wash up our dinner plates in them there Olympic loo’s. Not really. But they were nice. I actually did an “I approve” head nod on arrival in to my cubicle.
Gold has to go to the toilets (hands down. Not hands down – I didn’t like them that much), Silver to Alex (for not needing to even consider using public loo’s yet because he is too little) and Smudge and Ed can share Bronze because a little kid cut in in front of them in the queue and they didn’t kick off (as Smudge pointed out- “the little boy was about 4, Han, I wasn’t going to have a go”. And as I pointed out – “it is hotter than the SUN here, Smudge, you should have at least kicked his feet out from under him as he ran past”). I was disqualified from the games.
5) Because I gave away, to my husband, my ticket to see the Hockey at the Olympic Park last week. Because he didn’t have one, and I did. Because it would kind have been like if he had a ticket to the Oscars and went, rather than giving it to me. Because I knew he would get more out of it than I would. So, for THAT I deserve to act like Jamaica and get 1, 2 and 3. Gimme the medals, baby.
Everyone was soooooo friendly at the Olympics at Eton Dorney where we went today. Man alive, they were so nice. Policeman using their big massive guns as pointing devices (“the Hog Roast is that way”) and the Army joshing about with the kids, heckling miserable hot Alex through the body detector thing telling him he should run through like Bolt. Think Hot Fuzz (at the beginning, before everyone turns out to be in a cult). THAT.
The only downside was I didn’t get a hug off of Steve Redgrave like everyone else at Dorney seemed to over the past week. I would have told him that his coverage has been the best, and could he please now replace John Inverdale, because, lets face it, he looks like someone has wheeled him in front of the cameras by mistake then just left him there in his Spitting Image mask.
Anyway. I am ready for my medal presentation now. I will be sure to sing the Anthem so that the Devil, sorry, Piers Morgan has to donate another grand. Why thank you. *bows head*