10 Downing Street and the Trafford Centre

(Obviously it did include an address, but I've edited it out
to avoid any unwanted parties on my doorstep)

I paid a flying visit home the other day and was super excited to find out that there was a letter from my new BFF, PM Dave Cameron, in my letter pile on the kitchen table. Now, bearing in mind the fact that my letter pile isn't ever particularly well sorted/ neat/ tidy/ read, me actually discovering my post from Downing Street was pretty much a minor miracle. But nevertheless a very exciting one. And, given the circumstances, I also decided to make a rare exception, and accept the usage of my full name...

Spotted looking a tad out of place
at a recent badmo tournament!

A blast from my Velodrome past... Yes, I
did once dabble in trophy presenting...

The following day I headed to the Trafford Centre with my mum to look at heaters (my blog is so super exciting, I know!) and also for some Team GB cycling action. Now, in a strange sporting link, there are actually badminton courts in the middle of the National Cycling Centre (aka the Manchester Velodrome) and so I have previously been known to play with Team GB whizzing around the track (complete with their coach's bell and megaphone combo, which isn't exactly the best recipe for success when combined with my admittedly-not-fantastic attention span...). Also, just because I'm whacking out the big facts today, I did actually make my mopping debut there at the 2006 English National Badminton Championships (Wikipedia, take note).

 

But anyway... long story short and badminton and cycling connections aside, an Olympic gold medal and an Olympic silver medal decided to make an appearance in Waterstones. Along with, obviously, their owner, Victoria Pendleton, and her recently released book, 'Between the Lines'. (I am aware that that sounded mildly like the start of one of those ''an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scottish man walk into a bar'' jokes, but I can only ever remember the start of them, so please don't expect a punchline or any da, da, da, boom cymbals or anything). 

 

I'm an unashamed completely nosey Mopper and I love autobiographies (Gail Emms, get on it asap), so, in true Games Maker vs. languages student style, I had been switching between reading 'Between the Lines' and 'Harry Potter' in Russian ever since the former came out. Just before the Olympics both Victoria Pendleton and Usain Bolt had been featured on BBC documentaries within a couple days of each other, and I'd watched the two programmes in succession as I'd packed for the big move to London. Bearing in mind that they're both massively successful world class athletes, I wasn't surprised at all by Usain Bolt's confidence. Her, well, distinct lack of it, was slightly more surprising. I'll let her (and probably the Daily Mail) tell her story, but the lady on the till when I bought the book was pretty accurate when she described the book as being ''really honest''. It's honest to the point that it's not always easy to read, but, at the same time, it's refreshing that she has been so open, and, while the Mopper is no book critic, she would greatly encourage that you read it. (It's better than my blog, I promise).


Anyway, as we can all probably tell where this story is going, Victoria Pendleton signed muh book and made muh day. She was also absolutely lovely (and slightly worried about her appearance on Strictly Come Dancing this season) and can be added to the (now pretty long) list of people who think that I'm far younger than I actually am...

In other news, I was recently interviewed and the mopping blog may well be featured in the paper some time soon... You heard it here first, people! Da, da, da, boom! (Ok, I lied when I said there was no punchline).

What do you get if you put Usain Bolt in an ice bath?

 

Luckily, and much to my relief, Lufthansa didn't strike on Sunday 9th, so I was able to fly back home. Although, when I say 'home', I actually spent all of about 3 hours there before driving down to London. According to Google Maps and my calculations, this totalled 774 miles in 6 hours worth of travelling, and I am considering this to be a new personal best.

When I got to the flat I watched the Closing ceremony of the Paralympics, before heading to bed an hour later than originally planned, due to accidently having reached the point of no return by tuning in to Channel 4+1 instead of Channel 4...

The morning was an early one, but, after a dramatic run for the train in a style that if it hadn’t been for my Games Maker uniform, I’m sure could have been mistaken for that of Usain Bolt, I was well and truly woken up.

I headed to Trafalgar Square to buy some breakfast and, after having made a Games Maker friend along the way and had John Inverdale come up to me to say thank you for my Games Maker-ing (one of my stronger starts to a day!), I went to Horse Guard's Parade to eat my Meal Deal fit for a Games Maker. (I would here mention the name of the Supermarket where said Meal Deal was purchased, but it is the major rival of the Supermarket which sponsored the Paralympics, so I'll be a responsible Games Maker and miss it out for LOCOG's sake...)

I spent the morning in the area around The Mall, before the police did a security sweep and we all had to wait outside the gates of 'Area 5' (the beach volleyball Games Makers were well acquainted with these areas, but the Wembley mopper experienced some minor orientation difficulties along the way). We were then joined by the rain and also by the Games Maker Legacy Choir, who sang Land of Hope and Glory on repeat for a while, before switching to lots of songs about loving London.

 

It was the first time after the Olympics that I'd been around lots of Games Makers, and, in true Games Maker style, the stories were flowing. I met a 'Brunel' from the Opening Ceremony and spoke with a woman who had given up 3 days of every week since February to help to organise the Ceremonies. The story of the day, however, came from someone who had worked on Events Services at one of the training venues which had been used before the Olympics.

This Games Maker had been working in the ice bath room during the Jamaican team pre-Olympics ice bath session. Usain Bolt and Blake had been in opposite ice baths and, after a few minutes, the two of them had decided to start to have a water fight. Said Games Maker was alone in the room with the two of them as they began to throw the water from the ice baths across the room and at each other. Doubting his authority to make any comment, said Games Maker went outside to find the Jamaican team coach who had brought the athletes into the room. Upon finding the coach and telling her what was happening, said Games Maker was pretty shocked by her distinct lack of shock. Instead, the coach rolled her eyes, looking entirely unsurprised at the ice bath adventures of Bolt and Blake, walked calmly into the ice bath room and ordered them to ''stop or stay in the ice for 40 minutes''. Her response to their protests that they would freeze was simply, ‘’ I do not care’’. And so the Bolt and Blake ice bath adventures ceased.


After quite an extensive wait outside, we were let in to the infamous ‘Area 5’ of The Mall, where we were entertained until the Parade began by grannies in drag on scooters and a piano-playing nun. We were able to watch the start of the Parade on the big screen nearby and, in the pre-Parade wait, what shocked us all the most (other than the appearance of a swoosh of floppy blonde hair (aka Boris Johnson) right next to us and Eddie Izzard’s mission to shake every single one of our hands) was just how packed the streets of London were. Even the side streets, where you would probably be lucky to see the busses, let alone the athletes, were packed as far as you could see!



Jess 'Bus 3' Ennis

Anyway, our time came and the gates to The Mall opened and the athletes were greeted by lots of very excited Games Makers, who had all had a good two hours of TV coverage and Google-ing time behind them to work out who was on which bus. And, after having had slightly better phone internet than those around me, I am now left to wonder whether I will ever not remember ‘’Mo Farah- Bus 1, Jess Ennis- Bus 3, Chris Hoy, Victoria Pendleton and Sarah Storey- Bus 7, Tom Daley- Bus 8’’, after having repeated it so many times...



It was great to see so many signs thanking the Games Makers

The only way that I can describe the experience that followed was that it was a total sensory overload (obviously in the best possible way). It was just (probably to state the obvious) athlete, after athlete, after athlete and, to Team GB and Paralympics GB’s credit, medal, after medal, after medal. The woman next to me stood there, not knowing really what to say, and just repeating ‘well done, well done, well done’, to every single passing athlete, which summed it all up really, I think.


Chris 'Bus 7' Hoy and Sarah 'Bus 7' Storey

When the athletes reached Buckingham Palace, they were all brought up onto a stage on the Memorial and the concert began. According to my dad (who was watching on TV), it was started by Amy Macdonald, but I think there may have been technical difficulties as far as the speakers were concerned if this is the case... I did, however, see The Pet Shop Boys, The Noisettes and Katherine Jenkins, before David Cameron, Princess Anne, and Boris Johnson spoke.

Victoria 'Bus 7' Pendleton

Now, although I do greatly enjoy a bit of royalty, I have to admit that our Boris did steal the show in a pretty epic style (on the epic Boris moments scale, it surpassed the awkward Olympic handover flag wave in Beijing and was equalled only by the Boris-stuck-on-a-zip-wire-in-Victoria-Park-holding-two-Union-Jacks-live-internet-stream) with the most patriotically hilarious speech of the century, which left the entire Mall (and probably the surrounding areas of London) chanting his name.

After the chants had died down, the photographic challenge that was the fly-by began. I love watching planes (as my housemates will back me up on!) and, even if my photos do not do it any justice whatsoever (there’s a reason that the Mopper does a languages degree!), there was something pretty special/ British about getting bruised hips from leaning on railings on The Mall whilst watching the Red Arrows fly over Buckingham Palace...

I stayed around after the Parade until the athletes disappeared and the devastating line ‘’ we don’t want to, but we’re now going to have to end the Olympic TV coverage’’, was heard on TV sets across Great Britain. And, yes, I did see a tear from Seb Coe.

I then headed to Trafalgar Square, where the last thing I saw before heading to the train station was a couple of Games Makers spontaneously Irish dancing with Chinese tourists in front of the National Gallery. Olympic London, I love you.

I had a 1^st Class ticket for the way home because, for some reason, it had worked out cheaper than standard class, so, after using the Games Maker muscles to help an elderly couple with their bags, I went and sat in the lounge for a bit and watched the breaking news of Seb Coe running for BOA Head with lots of Games Makers, London Ambassadors and Team GB coaches.

Heartbreakingly, I then had to get on a train to go home and actually leave Olympic London. However, on the way back, I did something that would make our Boris swell with pride: I had a three hour long spontaneous conversation on public transport.

Lufthansa, don't you dare

Well, as thousands of athletes left Great Britain, I followed suit and I'm currently in Germany staying with an absolutely lovely family and having lots of degree-related fun. Much to the ginger's delight, the 39°C temperatures of two weeks ago have now seemingly come to an end, and I am now able to venture outside without being armed with litres of sun cream and looking more (interesting gardening tan lines aside) like an at least half-normal member of society than an overheated red-headed lobster.

However, even in the midst of my zip-lining Klassenfahrt and spontaneous quarter-marathon adventures, I have managed to achieve something truly monumental. No, I have neither beaten Lin Dan nor sprinted faster than Usain Bolt...

...I have checked my emails!

And, my inbox contained something even more exciting than spam messages offering me an iPhone 4/ quick weight loss tips/ £1,000,000 for being 1,000,000th visitor to www.thereisnowaythatieveropenedthispage.com.

It contained a 100% LOCOG-approved-legitimate email entering me into a ballot to be one of 9,000 Olympic volunteers to attend the athlete's parade through the streets of London on Monday 10th.

To cut the long story short... checking emails brings prizes and the Games Maker uniform is getting another outing in a couple of days. The Mopper is obviously extremely excited about this.

However, as always, the Mopper's transport adventures continue and she is due to fly back with Lufthansa on Sunday. Due to their recent striking keen-ness, this is obviously quite a tense situation as to whether or not I will actually successfully make it back into the country by Monday. Lufthansa, you have been warned. Don't you dare.

Also, to the Queen, Princes William and Harry and to Kate Middleton, I have a reserved place on the Mall (I believe that this is your royal version of what us commoners would normally refer to as a front drive), so I would really quite appreciate it if you put in an appearance. Just saying...