Having survived the Jubilee celebrations, when her Majesty was inescapable wherever you turned... well, her image, as the closest I got to her see her was this magnificent Jelly Beans portrait in John Lewis (Stratford):
I hasten to add, although no royalist, I could not fail to celebrate her glorious reign because the pub I went for Sunday lunch that long jubilee weekend was serving this in her honour. For Queen and Country I will eat a decent desert:
Now, of course, we await the Olympics. Given that I live, as the crow flies (well, a bus ride away), not that far from the olympic stadium some signs are inescapable: special Olympic traffic, Olympic bunting (official only, as local shop owners have been told to remove anything that does not comply), and even the torch. On Saturday, the torch relay skimmed past the bottom of my street in Hackney so I could not resist nipping out to see it. I must say, although the torch does look like a cheese grater (as is often said) and it is awfully 1980s bling gold, the guy carrying it looked very pleased. We all made suitable noises, took photographs and clapped as he jogged into the distance:
I forgot the torch was running around in town again today, so on my way to work was surprised to see one of the mascots in Highbury Fields for a special post-torch event (Wenlock or Mandeville? I can but shrug, as I haven't learnt to differentiate one from the other).
This will be the closest I get to the event, as I did not apply for tickets, but did any of you?
Fredrik Backman Was Here
1 day ago