Happy campers

And so the Olympics continues to inspire and amaze. Athletes from all over the world compete at the highest level, dazzling us mere mortals with the prowess of fables from times of old.

Always exciting, wondering what new sport will be added at each games – in London 2012, womens boxing received the required 2/3rds of votes to be make the grade. Personally I was hoping for something a bit more along the lines of pub darts but there you go.

I mean what Nation is going to have someone who can stand up to the might of Phil ‘The Power’ Taylor or James ‘The Machine’ Wade. Not many, that’s for sure. And they last, pub darts players go on and on. They can still be in their prime mid-late fifties – to think in 40 years time, the greatest British Olympian with over 10 consecutive gold medals, could still be in training at a reputable drinking establishment close to you.

Of course, focusing on another great British tradition, had tent erecting been in the Olympics this year, none other than yours truly would have been in the running for a medal. No question. In fact, my efforts this last Saturday night, were almost synonymous with a true British gold. There was hope in the face of despair, joy in the face of tragedy and triumph in the face of disaster. Ultimately there was unparalleled success and a champion team win that would have brought at least one tear to the most hardened spectators eye.

First up was the unpacking and setting up. Big things six man tents. Massive if you think it was designed by American giants. The fact I ended up with two tent poles left over being neither here nor there, the whole procedure was executed with military precision. I had watched the youtube footage of putting this model of elite tent up on two consecutive occasions. On each viewing, it had taken the chap in the video 7minutes to get the thing up. Enough said. Three hours later, it was up and looking sharp – well, a touch lopsided, but sharp nevertheless.

Within moments, the dog had half chewed through one of the key straps holding the inner tent to the wall of the fly sheet, someone had popped a sausage into the kettle, and going to the toilet became a main attraction of the day. Unfazed, delirious with the prospect of what was to come, camping equipment was readied and the party began. We had a fire, burnt marshmallows, made hot chocolate, set off a few fireworks and Cords and I polished off a few drinks a bit quick. Winner.

Of course being England, it did rain – torrentially – and yes, the tent did leak – but it didn’t matter. We had a victory and the gold was ours. Just imagine what it will be like next time – we might even venture out of the garden…