I went to the Olympics again yesterday. This time I took my Dad to the Dome to watch the trampolining. This time there were medals. Let me tell you about some more of the sports I've seen.
Trampolining - the venue: North Greenwich Arena You might know it as the O2, but during the Games that brandname has been airbrushed away in favour of the entirely neutral North Greenwich Arena. The venue's owners must be both loving and hating hosting Olympic events, because footfall is huge, but they've not been able to host any other events for weeks. The restaurants inside are still open, indeed they're still open to non-ticketholders, but all potential diners have to pass through airport-style security before their aperitif. Here as everywhere else the Games Makers are magnificently cheery. One even insisted on taking a photo of me and my Dad each sporting a pink foam pointy hand (sorry, that's for the family album only). The last time we were both here, back in 2000, we sat on the ground while millennial acrobats tumbled above. For 2012 instead we sat in the gods, while matchstick acrobats tumbled below. The banking in the arena is steep, but the view down's pretty good so long as you're not sat behind an American in a comedy hat.
Trampolining - the event: Men's Trampoline The Olympics even offers medals for bouncing. Trampolining's been in the Games since 2000, with the men's event on one day and the women's on the next. The entire competition takes place in one session, with sixteen qualifiers performing two routines each, then the best eight battling for glory in a final round. No British trampolinist made the grade, so the crowd were able to be successfully unbiased through the entire two hour afternoon session. Each routine has to contain ten skills - that's ten consecutive bounces after an initial series of springs to gain height. It's all over very quickly. A minute on the trampoline is all each athlete needs, with the crucial key moves expressed in twenty seconds flat. The trampoline's massive, although the target area in the centre is only about the same size as a front door which isn't big when you're descending at speed. Indeed, not everybody made it. Some competitors edged too close to the edge and crashed and burned, their coaches holding out a safety mat to break the fall. At this level of competition one mistake destroys your score, and off home you go. But when it all works, the athleticism is amazing. Double somersaults, even triples, combined with spinning flippingoutstretched spins. We didn't need the ten quid commentary gizmo to know when an athlete had done well, indeed its purchase seemed pointless given that each video replay came with full description. It soon became clear that China, Russia and Japan would dominate the event, especially the young Chinese gymnast with the unintentionally comic name of Dong Dong. He smashed the qualifying round and levitated through the final before walking off, grinning, with gold. And so it was that Dad and I ended the day standing for the national anthem of China, and we can now tick off "watching an Olympic medal ceremony" on our list of life's achievements. [seven photos]
Hockey - the venue: Riverbank Arena At the top end of the Olympic Park, where there used to be a pentecostal church, bus garage and traveller encampment, that's where thevenue for London 2012 hockey is located. It's a huge open-air arena, with a subsidiary practice pitch located alongside that only aerial photographers spot. The most striking feature is the bright blue pitch, coloured so that the ball shows up better, surrounded by an even brighter pink perimeter. Sunglasses may be required. The view all the way down the Park is equally spectacular, if you're sitting high enough, with the Aquatic Centre, Orbit and Stadium poking out above the top of the southern grandstand. There's zero protection if it rains, as it did partway through my visit. At the first hint of falling water the entire crowd reacted by rooting in their bags for waterproofs and brollies, though thankfully this didn't last long else anyone sat behind an over-sized golf umbrella would have cursed. If hockey inspires locals to sporting glory, this is one of the venues that's being retained, shifted across the A12 to its permanent location at Eton Manor.
Hockey - the matches: Spain v Australia, Netherlands v Belgium The stands weren't full when the first match in the session began, partly because the Arena's such a long walk up the Park, but most probably because bully off was at 8:30am. Spain and Australia came out for the shaking of hands and their respective anthems, then spread out across the pitch for the match proper. The accuracy with which these men could hit and receive was impressive, else the ball would regularly have flown off into an unmarked space and the game would have been mostly stop and start. With each thwack of the stick the playing surface threw up a fountain of water, convincing proof that the blue pitch wasn't painted grass but some artificial skin. We spectators had little idea of the relative abilities of the teams, but the five nil whitewash soon proved that Australia were the more talented side. Belgium versus the Netherlands was a much tighter match, and also supported by considerably more spectators from the respective countries. BestMate and I were sat amongst a smattering of Belgians, mostly families, cheering loudly but never raucously (except when their lone goal was scored). The Dutch were more in evidence, both in colour and in voice, with entire banks of seating seemingly coloured orange. Even when it rained, out came orange ponchos and up went orange brollies to maintain the illusion. As this second match neared conclusion the Belgians substituted their goalkeeper with a forward, so desperate were they to pull back into contention, but that backfired when they conceded a further goal and the final whistle saw them three one down.
Handball - the venue: Copper Box It's not a thrilling name, although the venue is a box covered in copper so at least it's descriptive. From the outside it doesn't look much, which may be why they've erected three giantmirrored letters out the front to liven things up. But inside it's a riot of colour, thanks mainly to the banks of seating whose colours seem randomly arranged like the pegs in a giant game of Mastermind. The surrounding walkways are compact, and also brightly signed, with a food concession in each corner for spectators to sneak off to during competition. The balcony round the pitch is easily accessible from the front entrance, with a great view for spectators in wheelchairs, while the media get to sit further round at their own bespoke desks. Be warned, it's not quiet in here, with a warm-up guy intent on whipping up the audience and various blasts of music at opportune moments. There's a great atmosphere, which bodes well for the legacy phase when the Copper Box is turned over to the local community. It's to be the only permanent indoor arena retained in the Olympic Park, combining sporting facilities with a gym and café, and is (though you'd never realise now) ideally situated for Hackney Wick station.
Handball - the wooden spoon match: Team GB v Argentina I've seen several team game matches at the Olympics, but only one involving the host nation. Great Britain versus Argentina in the men's handball was a match heavy with unspoken subtext, although in the wider context of the Games nothing more than an obscure sideshow between the two weakest teams in Pool A. The crowd were wildly partisan throughout, even from the moment the two teams strode in from the changing rooms. Flags erupted from the stands, cheers rang out around the arena, and armchair sports fans offered shouts of encouragement to the GB team. Hopes were high at the start of the match, not least because few present realised we'd won neither of our previous matches. Things looked fairly close to begin with, as every British attack was applauded, and our goals raised the roof. Handball's a very end-to-end game, with players throwing and bouncing the ball around the edgeof the D-zone before either hurling at goal or losing possession. It soon became clear that we were doing the latter more than the former, and the Argentine team edged into a slim but persistent lead. That didn't stop the cheers, and the crowd's increasingly over-optimistic hopes. The fifty-something couple behind me never stopped urging Our Lads on ("Come on Team GB!") or offering advice ("defend, defend!"), despite their vocal input having zero impact apart from contributing to the overall hubbub. By the second half the margin between the two teams was unassailable, but the flags still waved and the encouragement remained strong. It struck me how much the country has united behind Team GB, resolute in unflinching support, blinkered by the quest for medals. I can't get into it myself - I lack the euphoric empathy needed to be swept along by Olympic competition. So when the match ended and we were 32-21 down I wasn't downhearted, nor indeed disappointed, merely pleased to have attended another amazing Olympic event.
Today's one of the busiest days in the Olympic Park, as the Athletics finally kicks off and two additional stadiumfuls of spectators pour inside. But can the Park cope? It's been busy enough these last couple of days, especially at lunchtime and in the early evening inbetween sessions. With a hundred thousand more bodies milling around hunting for food, entertainment or the exit, there'll be a lot more pressure on the main routes between the venues. Up on the tarmac walkways an army of Games Makers are attempting to establish a "Keep Left" policy. It's worked well thus far, and has also prevented too many collisions with oncoming mobility vehicles. The network of footpaths nearer the river has also coped well, not least because most visitors haven't discovered they can walk this way. But there's an unexpected pressure point amongst the landscaped gardens, because people will insist on walking where they shouldn't.
The parklands aregorgeous, definitely a highlight of the main Olympic site. But the number of paths through is limited, and the number of entrances few, which means visitors are starting to wander where the designers had assumed they wouldn't. People don't want to walk along the lengthy zigzag path from the wetlands, so they've been cutting up the steep grassy slope instead. People don't want to walk the long way round to enter the big screen area at Park Live, so they're traipsing through the flowerbeds instead. People who want to reach the giant rings opposite the Basketball Arena don't want to go round the long way, so they're walking straight up the escarpment through the undergrowth. There aren't a huge number of tramplers, don't get me wrong. But it only takes one person to shortcut off the path and all those long months of cultivation are quickly wrecked.
The Park's designers haven't helped themselves in several respects. Several paths take the long route, so the shortcut across the flowers looks mighty tempting. Some of the paths in the Park are dead ends, so perhaps it's not surprising when people decide to continue. The big screens have insufficient lawn space, so spectators are trampling the bedding plants to get a view. One long semicircular lawn near the bandstand has only one entrance, so it's entirely understandable when people decide to head onwards through the vegetation at the far end. Some of the planted beds have low groundcover which is precisely the sort of thing you might walk across in woodland, so why not here? And once one person's walked the wrong way the path grows, and bad behaviour spreads.
LOCOG have started taking preventative action. Additional rope barriers have been added to deter the creation of desire line footpaths. Chains of metal barriers have been erected along the edge of over-tempting flowerbeds, decorated with orange or pink banners for concealment purposes. Signs have gone up saying "Please respect the Landscape so that others may enjoy it", although quite frankly they're a bit obtuse, and most visitors won't realise precisely what they're being asked not to do. When standing at the top of a slope with a trampled-down track ahead, who'd know that this isn't a deliberate footpath. More direct signs reading "Do not walk on the flowerbeds" would be ugly and intrusive, but their absence risks creating a slowburn eyesore.
I realise now how fortunate I was to see the gardens on their first morning - pristine, untouched and unsullied. Back then a number of Games Makers were dotted throughout the parkland, seemingly doing nothing, but they've since been withdrawn and now there's almost no supervision. It's a shame to see the Olympic Park Gardens being disrespected by visitors who don't seem to realise what they're doing. Don't worry, it's only a minor issue at the moment, and the 2012 Gardens in the southern half of the park are barely affected. The parklands arestillabsolutelygorgeous, a true triumph of the Games, but the degeneration can only increase.
The gardeners will have a chance to repair their creation in the hiatus between the Olympics and Paralympics. There also appear to be fresh flowers waiting to bloom at the end of this month, so later visitors should still see a blooming great show. My fear is for the legacy phase, when this becomes Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park, open 24 hours a day to the entire local neighbourhood. There's no way that ornamental flowerbeds and planted slopes can survive unsupervised public onslaught, not when they look like genuine access cut-throughs. Let's hope the planners find a solution when the north end of the Park reopens in a year's time, else the Games' bequest to the people of East London may be a masterpiece that peaked last weekend.
I went to the Olympics again yesterday. I invited Blue Witch to the handball at the Copper Box. We watched Team GB play Argentina. You can guess how it ended.
I've now spent more than 40 hours in the Olympic Park. I'm aware that this is slightly excessive. However, if there's anything you'd like to ask, any tips you'd appreciate, or any nagging questions you have, fire away in the comments box and I'll try to answer them later.
I went to the Olympics again yesterday. This time I took BestMate to watch the hockey. And then we explored some "partner showcases".
Several international corporations have forked out a small fortune to sponsor London 2012. I suspect they haven't paid enough, given all the freebie tickets they get, plus their legally-sanctioned stranglehold on all related advertising opportunities. For visitors to the Olympic Park there's no escape, as eight of the Olympic sponsors have their own pavilions on site. Once you've been to your event, and eaten, they hope to entice you inside on the basis there isn't very much else to do. But are they worth a visit, or should you go and enjoy the gardens instead?
Here's my unbranded guide to Partner Showcases in the Olympic Park, ranked from best to worst.
Gold) Park Live Presented by Major Airline Park Live succeeds because it's about sport. Indeed, it's the only place in the entire Olympic Park to keep up with what's going on in the rest of the Games. In conjunction with LOCOG, a giant two-sided video screen has been plonked in the centre of the River Lea, with spectator space on two landscaped lawns on either bank. There's something similar in Hyde Park and Victoria Park, but they have tacky marketing sideshows attached, whereas here it's just grass and flowers. If Rebecca's in the pool and you've not got tickets, you can watch her here. If Bradley's getting a medal, you can watch him here. OK, so every now and then the action cuts away to adverts for Major Airline, but nowhere near as often as you might expect. OK, so presenters insist on stalking the crowd and trying to whip up enthusiasm, but again, not so often. Staff hand out Union Jack plastic mats to sit on, and Team GB temporary tattoos for children, while stocks last. On Saturday there was plenty of space, and the lawns were pristine. By yesterday the grass was rammed, with folk squished into all the contoured lawns, nearly bursting out across the surrounding flowerbeds and cheering every British triumph. To all the companies below, if you'd made your pavilion more about sport than about yourselves, you might have been more successful.
Silver) Fizzy-drink Beatbox It's the most eye-catching pavilion in the Park, a whirlwind of red and white rectangles swirling around a central cylinder. The Fizzy-drink company asked two up-and-coming architects to design it, and the gamble's paid off. They've also hired a cast of hundreds - mostly unemployed drama students by the looks of it - who get to squeeze every ounce of acting ability into chivvying the crowd along. You'll spot them around the Park in their red t-shirts, often congregated in groups doing silly things. On Saturday morning the Beatbox was desperate for customers, but there have been queues to enter ever since. Yesterday afternoon's queue was 50 minutes long (if you see the entire corral full, assume an hour). The redshirts keep visitors entertained throughout their wait (which is no mean feat when most are under the age of 10), by milking the fact that worship of Team GB is the country's new religion. The Beatbox is based around a song by Mark Ronson which sampled sporting sounds from around the world, although it didn't trouble the charts, peaking at number 55. Each small group ascends the spiral ramp around the venue, supposedly assembling the sounds piece by piece, by stroking specially-marked panels on the way up. It's a little rushed, and probably too complex for most youngsters to grasp, but they'll enjoy making the noises all the same. On the roof are two treats. First the view across the Park, and then an opportunity to have your photo taken holding an official Olympic torch. Don't register that photo downstairs, take the code number home and collect it from the website (where it's perfectly OK to enter a false email address). By cropping the download I now have a sponsor-free image of me, in front of the Stadium, holding a torch, which is pretty cool. Each journey through the Beatbox takes about 30 minutes, and ends with with a free bottle of fizz which you're invited to drink at a "party"on the ground floor. This is the least subtle part of the proceedings, aimed at associating the fizzy drink brand with fun, especially in the minds of children. And yes the whole thing's pure indoctrination, but it's done with such bubbly enthusiasm, and it'll keep your kids busy for ages.
Bronze) Oil Company – Fuelling the Future It's hard for a petrochemical multinational to ally itself to sporting prowess, but Oil Company has had a good go. First they've worked out that the public likes nothing better than a big mirror to photograph themselves in, so they've stuck one of those on the front of their stand. Then they've cooked up some mumbo jumbo about offsetting the carbon footprint of your journey to the Games (they were quite keen to sign me up, even though I'd walked). And then they've created a swirly theatre with images of athletes interspersed with deep sea drilling rigs and the like. The gimmick is that the ring of seats rotates, which is entertaining enough for the 12 minutes the film lasts, but no thriller. Bronze only by default.
4) German Car Group Pavilion If you like cars, woo, here are some cars. On entrance you're given a wristband, whose colour denotes how long you'll be forced to wait in the opening exhibit before being allowed through to the theatre. In the theatre they'll show you four souped up adverts for cars, allegedly with an Olympic link. And then you're allowed out and upstairs to view the latest vehicles in the company's range ("please take photos, you're free to take photos, please stick them on Facebook" etc). If you don't like cars enjoy the view from the roof, and the free set of Top Trumps cards on the way out (oh, more cars).
5) TV Setmaker's Full HD 3D Theatre This pavilion has a prime position in the Park, and looks like it ought to be fun. I mean, HD 3D Theatre, that's proper 21st century. Instead queueing takes an age, with 100 people let inside only every 25 minutes. You're given 3D glasses and urged to switch them on, although the glasses are black, the switch is black and the room is dark, so that's quite hard. Then you watch some Olympic-related promotional videos, and and see some of the latest Olympic events in 3D. And that doesn't last long enough. The action then switches to the back of the room where a cheesy salesman attempts to demonstrate the company's new smart TV set. The presentation was so forced that half the audience walked out early, and rightly so. Unless the queue's short, don't bother.
6) Energy Infraco Pavilion – The Magic of Electricity When ushered into a big screen viewing area, you'd hope for better than a film pointing out that electricity is used in the home and aren't athletes great. Out the back, you'd hope for better than a set of information screens about Energy Infraco. The only thing that slightly rescues this exhibit is the opportunity for children to jump up and down and see how many watts of energy they're creating. But much better exercise to take them to the Great British Garden opposite, to be honest.
7) Mobile Company Mobile PIN "Stand here, Sir, and we'll take your photo. Then we'll harvest your contact details, Sir, and you can play with our new phones. Finally we'll let you have a big badge with your photo on, Sir, and hope you'll wear our advert round the Park all day. You will? More fool you, Sir."
8) The Computer Manufacturer Journey Have we stepped back to 1995? A swirly astro-journey video with banal themes. A robot bloke in a red jumpsuit who steps off the screen. An upstairs chamber where you can play sort-of computer games but only if you register your details first. The whole thing's like a bad holodeck episode of Star Trek The Next Generation. Save your curiosity and stay outside.
I went to the Olympics again yesterday. This time I went to ExCel to watch the fencing. I think it's time I told you about some of the sports I've seen.
Fencing - the venue: ExCel There are seven Olympic events taking place at ExCel, mostly the compact indoor knockout sports such as table tennis and weightlifting. Each has its own dedicated section of the exhibition centre, with spectators corralled within until their session finishes. Prepare to be trapped inside with banks of temporary toilets, restricted food options and one drinking fountain. It's not that bad, honest, but after six hours it's not exactly luxurious either. All spectators enter via ExCel's western end, through a security zone where the slalom takes longer than the scan. Exit is from the eastern end, with those travelling to Central London directed to Prince Regent DLR and those for Stratford sent to Pontoon Dock. The latter is a ten minute walk, if you're fit, and several less healthy members of the crowd were cursing they'd been sent this way by the end of it. On this way out you pass (without warning) through the London Pleasure Gardens, where a motley collection of stalls and bars is attempting (and entirely failing) to make money from passing spectators.
Fencing - the event: Men's Individual Foil heats and quarter-finals Fencing's one of those events that people only notice at the Olympics, and then not much because it gets drowned by the bigger sports. Hence the arena at ExCel was filled by thousands of people who weren't entirely sure of the rules of what they were going to see. A useful set of videos run at the start of each Olympic session, outlining the basics, but once the action starts you soon realise you've not taken enough of them on board. It took me some time to deduce that fencing is a "first to score 15" sport, which I could have read in my information leaflet except the grandstands were all bathed in darkness. In contrast the floor was lit up like the set of Tron, with a brightly coloured piste in each corner of the floor. Throughout our six hour session we got to watch four simultaneous fencing bouts, which didn't make for easy viewing. If a cheer went went up, you'd likely not know why. If some incident made a quarter of the crowd gasp, your eye was probably elsewhere. Things were easier when Team GB took to the stage, as the partisan crowd cheered them on to the exclusion of all others. Alas our top medal hope Richard Kruse crumbled quickly, and other plucky Brits weren't far behind. Instead we transferred our support to various international swordsmen of note, notably the dark horse Egyptian, swishing and parrying their way to success. Things would have been much easier to understand if there'd been a commentary, but that wasn't possible unless you paid ten pounds for an electronic gizmo. I'm sure London 2012 are dead proud of their radio-earphone service, but they completely failed to promote it apart from a single illegible poster in the services area and one brief sentence in the warm-up preamble. I thought the little purple boxes the programme sellers were clutching were Cadbury chocolates, and by the time I'd worked out otherwise it was too late to be interested. So I spent six hours in a mostly-baffled crowd, applauding politely, enjoying the spectacle. If you'd have been watching online, with commentary, you'd no doubt have felt closer to the action.
Archery - the venue: Lord's As cricket's not an Olympic sport, Lord's gets to host the archery instead. It's a most impressive venue, not least because the grandstands have been erected on the pitch at the Pavilion End. On a sunny morning you really wanted to be in the southern stand, because those in the northern stand were having to stare into bright glare. I was very fortunate with my seat which was directly in line with the firing archers, unlike at the fencing where I'd been shoved right up in the far corner in need of binoculars. I also got chatting to the random strangers sat on either side, one a Mum with appreciative kids, the other a serial Olympoholic. It was interesting watching the number of empty seats fluctuate across the day. With an "early" 9am start, many people took some time to arrive and the first archers played to a reduced crowd. Numbers built until almost all the upper seats were taken, although it looked like the army had been brought in to fill two dozen at the front. I was surprised how many people drifted away during the morning - maybe four hours of repetitive shooting was too much for them, but that's knockout sport for you.
Archery - the event: Men's and Women's Individual - 1/32 and 1/16 eliminations Normally it's two batsmen stepping out from the Pavilion End, but for the Olympics it's two archers. They emerge carrying their bow, and a spare bow just in case, and two white-suited MCC gentlemen open the wicker gate so they can proceed onto the pitch. Each stands at the firing line while their coach stands several paces behind, with a telescopic viewfinder for keeping track of line of fire. A quiver of fresh arrows is brought out for each round, that's three shots at target, which in this case is located directly 70m across the cricket square. Shots fire at 200kmh, which makes the arrows very hard to see, so the camera pointing at the bullseye is invaluable. It's amazing how many times the competitors managed to score 9 or 10, which we rewarded with applause or a cheer respectively, while anything below a 7 earned a dismayed sigh. The match swiftly equated to a game of mental arithmetic (9, 9 and what will beat 10, 7 and 8?), a subject at which the American commentator proved less than competent. Top seed Im Dong Hyun, who's the world record holder yet legally blind, sailed through against a competitor from San Marino. The crowd contained more than its fair share of South Koreans who waved plastic flags every time he won points, which was often. Other winners included the young, the middle aged, the fit and the obese - there are few athletic barriers to archery success. Definitely my favourite sport so far. [ten photos]
Basketball - the venue: Basketball Arena It's the white marshmallowcasing up the top of the Olympic Park. And it's an entirely temporary arena, due to be dismantled and sent off to the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow ready for 2014. Impressive, then, how much it looks like a proper sports stadium inside, and what a good view most of the seats seem to have. The seating's divided into "us" and "them", with VIPs, players, coaches and high-cost ticket holders in a lower ring, and everyone else higher up. The stands are fairly vertiginous, however, and if you've been ticketed on the top row that's a hundred step climb. Don't expect to come here for a quiet time. Events are marshalled by a loud master of ceremonies who revels in getting the crowd to interact or sending round another Mexican wave. Music also plays a strong part, with a DJ ready to fire out tunes throughout the pre-match warm-up or during gaps in the play. I think the idea is to stop spectators from getting bored, especially those who can't cope with silence for more than a few seconds. Breaks between the quarters are filled by on-pitch entertainment, generally talented kids doing streetdance (and that's in no way as corny as it sounds).
Basketball - the matches: Turkey v Angola, USA v Croatia Only twelve countries get to take part in the Olympic women's basketball tournament, but it still takes an age to complete. They're not necessarily countries you'd expect to see either, and that's certainly the first time I've ever had to stand for the national anthem of Angola. Never mind the geography, feel the quality. These were teams with considerable talents, and considerably tall women too. With players up to six foot five in height, it clearly helps to be lanky, although it's not essential. More important is the killer instinct when throwing a ball, and it's astonishing the accuracy with which players can hit a hoop only 45cm in diameter. This was fast and furious end-to-end stuff, which kept the crowd loud and animated at all times. Turkey were always ahead in the first match, much to the delight of the Prime Minister who was watching from somewhere in the stands. Alas Michelle Obama didn't come to see the USA's women, she came the next day to see the men, but her girls needed little encouragement. Croatia stayed within striking distance until the fourth quarter when the game slipped away, a few too many missed chances, a few too many muffed shots. Not that you care. These are merely the preliminary rounds of a competition Team GB has no hope in, but when you're a spectator in the hyped-up cauldron of an Olympic arena, somehow which team wins briefly matters.
The Olympic Park is essentially two parks - a green swathe to the north and an extended plaza to the south. They're linked centrally along a broad tarmacked spine, which means it's perfectly possible to walk straight to your venue, leave immediately afterwards and see very little of the surroundings. But that would be a mistake. There's a heck of a lot to enjoy, all up and down the mile and a quarter length of the Park, so long as you step off the hardstanding and take a look. Grab a purple map from one of the information points to help you to find some of the more interesting corners, or read below...
What most people do
• Arrive and depart... the Stratford Gate and Greenway Gate are both at this end of the Park. Some will never get any further into the Park than this.
• Eat and drink... one of the best selections of eateries is here, plus by far the largest area of seating.
• Stare up at the Orbit... and look dejected when told that you needed to have pre-booked a £15 ticket online, and there aren't any available.
• Gawp at the venues... the Stadium, Aquatic Centre and Water Polo Arena are all close by.
• Stand around... and take photos of each other in front of the above.
What most people don't do
• Walk down to the edge of the City Mill River... a small footpath opposite the stadium leads down to a riverside promenade beneath meadow-planted slopes.
• Walk down to the edge of the WaterworksRiver... a broader promenade passes the Aquatic Centre and Water Polo Arena. At the southern end is the well-hidden BMW Pavilion where you can ogle new cars. In the river are some photogenic mooring posts disguised as coloured crayons. Beneath the Stratford Gate bridge is a brilliant water feature where seemingly random words appear projected in falling droplets. Along the landward edge are the 2012 Gardens, a thin strip of vibrant flowers from around the world. And at the northern end, missed by the great majority of visitors, it's only the RoyalBargeGloriana! She's been tied up here since Sunday and, if there's sun, she glints beautifully.
• Go pin trading... at the trading station beneath the Orbit. Enter within and you'll find some reallyserious collectors with badges from past Games all over their clothing and laid out on the table in front of them. Feel free to watch as trading takes place, or maybe buy some obscurely tangential badges and start your own collection. Unfortunately they're all Coca Cola badges in here - for the official LOCOG pins, try the London 2012 shop nextdoor.
What most people do
• Go into the world's largest McDonalds... which has high street prices, and is by far the cheapest place to eat.
• Wander round the hugeLondon 2012 Megastore... which has designer prices, for example £28 for the exclusive series of sport-by-sport t-shirts.
• Stare up at the BBC studios... which are perched on a big stack of blue containers by the coffee stand. You might spot someone famous... and they might spot you.
• Walk straight through, several times... because everyone has to pass this pinchpoint to pass between the northern and southern halves of the Park. You'll probably never notice, but the London Overground passes directly underneath.
What most people don't do
• Walk down underneath the SpottyBridge... which is where you'll find the remains of Carpenter's Lock. This is one of the few surviving remnants of the pre-Olympic Park, a structure so derelict it was out of bounds long before the bid was won, now buried in an illuminated pink tunnel. And I'm delighted to see that the old metalfootbridge alongside hassurvived, even if it is currently blocked at both ends for security reasons.
• Visit the Great British Garden... because it's hidden off the main drag, between Stadium bridges D and E. There are several small gardens, designed by schools across all regions of the country, hosting various activities for especially children to take part in. Charming, but overlooked.
• Visit the EDF Pavilion... almost all the other sponsors got a prime location. Not so EDF, whose "The Story of Electricity" is ever so easy to miss (beyond the Megastore).
• Spot where the prestige visitors eat... no £5 pasties and chicken nuggets for them. They get proper food, served at table, in a row ofunbranded hospitality prefabs.
• Enter/exit via the Victoria Gate... it's a long switchback route out of the Park round the back of theStadium to Wick Lane, but wonderfully quiet. Watch out for some larger-than-lifeOpening Ceremony puppets... unless they've been moved on by now.
What most people do
• Hang around waiting to go into the handball or hockey... there are plenty of eating (and drinking) opportunities here.
• Queue for the Panasonic HD 3D Theatre... it's a 25 minute show, combining Olympics footage with sales pitch, but they only allow 100 people in at a time.
• Queue for the Coca ColaBeatbox... it looks stunning, but Coke's reliance on a specially commissioned piece of music which failed to dent the Top 40 may have misfired.
• Take photos of three big letters (R, U & N) by the Copper Box... mirrored by day, illuminated by night.
• Sit and watch TV... British Airways have sponsored a giant screen perched in the middle of the River Lea. Hundreds, maybe thousands, are sitting on landscaped lawns to watch events taking place elsewhere in the Park, or across London. "Park Live" is the only place to catch up on sport if you're not inside a venue, and thus a very good place to be. The commercial intrusions are annoying, but relatively rare.
What most people don't do
• Follow the riverside path... it's going to be a lovely walk in legacy, but most don't spot they can turn off the main plaza and enjoy this parallel route instead. Keep going all the way past the hockey arena to discover the park's 'secret' northernmost bridge.
• Stop at the Cadbury Treat Kiosk... maybe it's the wrong weather for ice cream.
• Wander through the wetlands... opposite the Copper Box, cross the "dead-end" bridge with the picnic tables on it, then walk down the slope past the big tree. This is where the Bully Point Nature Reserve used to be, and it's very good to see that comparable waterymarshland has been restored.
• Read The Spark Catchers... a specially commissioned poem by Lemn Sissay about the Bryant & May matchgirls, carved into the wooden surround of an electricity substation. A little bit of Bow's history is part of Art in the Park.
What most people do
• Sit and eat... the map describes this area as being full of "tasty street food from around the world", but it tastes more like generic corporate catering.
• Trek to attend the venues... the Velodrome, BMX track and BasketballArena are all close by.
• Queue for sponsor pavilions... but watch out, because BP, Samsung and Acer appear to be overkeen to get your email address and contact details.
• Walk up the slope opposite the Basketball Arena... to get their photo taken in front of five large Olympic Rings. For some unfathomable reason they're not painted on the back, even though this is highly visible too.
• Sit and watch TV... There are further grassy lawns here for watching the other side of the "Park Live" screen.
What most people don't do
• Follow the riverside path... this one's prettierstill than the western bank. Watch out for several ornamental slopes and the frog ponds. But when you remember that this used to be the Manor Garden allotments, then the re-landscaping somehow isn't quite so much of a triumph.
• Visit the bandstand... it's at the very top of the Park, amongst gorgeous flowery parkland. You might see a local band playing, or you might meet Wenlock.
• Wander through the wetlands... the northern entrance is down the steps near the Acer pavilion. Don't forget to read the unusual plaques on the benches, here and throughout the site.
• Enjoy the Art in the Park... there are some delightful artistic interventions throughout the Park, like mirrored ceilings, mosaic bridges and especially the chopped-upphoneboxes. Either follow the green spots on the handout map, or download a "Walk in the Park" off the website before you arrive, else you'll only discover the art if you stumble upon it. [pdf guide]
Make sure you explore carefully - the Olympic Park contains much of interest and merit if you do.
There's surprisingly little shelter on the Olympic Park. » If it's cloudless and sunny, and you don't protect yourself, expect to burn. Remember you can bring up to 200ml of suncream into the Park, or there are a couple of pharmacies (by the Orbit and the Basketball Arena) where bottles of sunblock are stacked up in large numbers available to purchase. » But if there's a heavy relentless downpour, as we had several times on Sunday, there really aren't that many places to run. The Park appears to have been designed with a distinct lack of covered space, so it's umbrellas up, ponchos on, and pray that the deluge doesn't last long.
Places to hide when it rains i) Inside the London 2012 Megastore: Except everyone else will have had the same idea, so unless you get there fast you'll have to join the queue, and getting inside may take some time. ii) Inside a poncho:All the volunteers have their own, but there appear to be a very limited number to give away to visitors. If you are lucky enough to get one, please recycle in one of the purple bins before you leave. iii) Inside one of the sponsor pavilions: Except most of these have queues at the driest of times, so your chance of getting inside quickly during in a downpour is low. iv) Inside the enormous McDonalds: The ground floor of this prefab cuboid is almost all empty space. I originally thought this was for queueing, but I'm increasingly convinced it's a cunning way of enticing thousands inside if it rains, in the hope they'll then buy something. There's a lot of seating upstairs (but try not to take the lift, it's astonishingly slow). v) Inside your venue: If you're watching the Hockey or the BMX, or if you're in the trackside seats in the Stadium, you'll get very wet. Otherwise, you can ignore the weather and enjoy the sport. vi) Under the bridges: Several broad pedestrian bridges cross the Lea, carrying thousands on spectators from one bank to the other. But there are also much quieter paths underneath, alongside the river, each with space for a few hundred souls to take refuge. There are three such bridges in the parkland to the north, and several (lessobvious) to the south. If it rains, these are definitely the least commercial places to hide.
I went to the Olympics yesterday. This time I went to the Men'shandball at the Copper Box. I also got very wet. The Olympic Park is unforgiving in heavy rain.
Day 2 on Twitter: 10.59am: Another day in Wonderland. In some corners, the Park is even quieter than it was seven years ago. 11.49am: First drops of squally rain at the Olympic Park. The place to hide is beside the river under the bridges. Only a few hundred have noticed. 12.46pm: Desire line routes are already being trampled across a few flower beds where people can't wait to walk around the proper footpath. 1.26pm: A hundred thousand people have just discovered that, in a prolonged downpour, the spectator experience is grim. 2.09pm: Learning the rules of another previously-obscure world class sport. The four-year old on my left, perhaps less so. 3.22pm: Empty seats scandal at the handball, as the bored four year-old demands to go home two and a half hours early, and his parents agree. 5.04pm: Spain's red and gold shirts are more Canvey than Costa. 6.00pm: Now playing on the Olympic Park PA jukebox: Just Can't Get Enough, Karma Chameleon, Karma Police. 6.48pm: You *can* see my house from up here :) 7.44pm: Last time I walked along the Waterworks River, the undergrowth was above head high. Now the Royal Barge is here, moored to an orange crayon.
Day 1 on Twitter: 9.14am: Good Morning. Welcome to London 2012. Games Maker Wendy has just taken our family photo in front of the Orbit. Thanks Wendy! 9.42am: The world's largest McDonalds has a very restricted breakfast menu, but the cheapest food in the park. It is not yet busy. 10.36am: Sitting where the allotments used to be, beside a giant screen in the river Lea, watching the swimming taking place half a mile away. 11.24am: The waterside meadows are gorgeous, with acres of wild flowers dotted with butterflies , dragonflies and bumble bees. 1.08pm: A few charred tubes from last night's mega-firework display are scattered across the northern lawns. 2.26pm: I have never before stood for the national anthem of Angola. 4.36pm: Captain America and Spiderman got tickets, and have turned up to cheer on the USA women's basketball team. 7.37pm: Sampling the only chips on the Park that aren't french fries. The haddock's nice. Every so often the Aquatic Centre erupts with loud cheers. 8.41pm: Park visitors are generally ignoring the scenic waterside pathways in favour of the broad commercial ratruns. Their mistake. 9.42pm: After dark the Olympic Park lights up. Unfortunately, most people have long gone home. There are lots of staff with nothing meaningful to do.
Olympics-9h (Tower of London): The Royal Barge, Gloriana, comes to a halt on the river outside City Hall. The Olympic Flame is burning from a cauldron at the prow, having been rowed all the way down the Thames from Hampton Court. Viewed from the southern bank, five coloured rings and Tower Bridge form a most impressive backdrop. Alas viewed from the northern bank, the back of the rings is white and pretty much blocks Gloriana from view. Nothing much happens for about half an hour, or nothing we can see from the Tower of London. A tiny figure runs amok on the pontoon, torch aloft, flame burning, then disappears from view. Somehow the flame crosses to City Hall, it's impossible to see how. It's only possible to deduce that the Relay is over when Gloriana rows off, first back towards HMS Belfast, then onward through Tower Bridge. "Did we miss it?" asks an American tourist who's arrived too late. French TV pack up their roving camera and head off somewhere else. They look like they'd much rather be by the Seine, and oh so nearly were.
Olympics-8h (Limehouse): The Water Chariots are ready. Well almost ready. Twelve boats are moored up by the pontoon at Limehouse Basin, and some last minute fitting out is taking place. Dozens of blue, red and green chairs are stacked by the waterside, and a couple of black leather-look sofas too. If you choose to pay £45 for the two mile return trip to the Olympic Park you'll be sitting on one of these hotel-buffet-style chairs, four abreast, set out on the mop-clean metal floor. There's luxury for you. Meanwhile, under the DLR viaduct, the hospitality zone is being laid out with champagne parasols and burger vans. Water Chariots are particularly keen that you turn up 40 minutes before your sailing, presumably in the hope you might buy some Moet & Chandon and something with onions. And if you are a VIP with money to burn, don't worry, there are a dozen swish-looking black speedboats waiting to whizz you in from London proper, so there's no need to mix with East End hoi polloi at all. That's fine, we'd rather not mix with you either.
Olympics-7h (Westfield): Stratford City shopping centre has metamorphosed into a global melee. Competitors and their coaching staff are spilling out of a gate from the Athletes Village for a bit of souvenir hunting and food shopping. At long last Stratford International lives up to its name, as the station is at the heart of the action. On the plaza by the DLR, the pin badge sellers have set up camp. Some have laid their wares out on a cloth on the ground, another wears his collection on a pink cape and delights in showing off his rarest specimens to an appreciative audience. Step carefully or you'll get into shot of some nation's TV news - they're from Japan, and over along the border of the Park, that's Gibraltar. The magenta signs along the edge of the Park have been updated, with wording that now reads "Ceremony ticket holders only" and "No access from 3pm". The army are swarming round the sandwiches in Waitrose, clearing the shelves, then heading off to sit outside beneath overcast skies. The buzz is palpable, the expectancy approaching fever pitch, at least until the public get kicked out at three and the pre-ceremony security lockdown begins.
Olympics-6h (Victoria Park): The 1000-space Olympic cycle park is open for business. Mid-afternoon, however, the staff out front outnumber the bikes inside. It's perhaps not surprising that there are only half a dozen bikes here, because the Victoria Gate's closed, and BT Live hasn't opened yet. That's BT Live, the mass public celebration of all things Games, hidden away behind metal barriers, duplicated on a grander scale in Hyde Park. An observation wheel pokes high into the sky, for anyone with a burning desire to look down on eastern Tower Hamlets, and there's a big screen too for watching sport you could see at home on TV but bigger. The Sun have a stand inside, decked out with Union Jacks and balloons, while outside someone's trying to flog copies of today's Times and a hemp bag for a quid. There's already quite a queue an hour before the gates open and, by the looks of those yomping up from Mile End station, it can only get longer. For those who've not got a ticket to a sporting event, BT Live is all you've got. It doesn't look like a great alternative, to be honest.
Olympics-48m (Olympic Park): At 20:12 precisely, the Red Arrows fly over the Stadium leaving a long trail of red, white and blue across the sky. Woo! A few minutes later it does indeed start raining, as I predicted seven years ago, but thankfully only for a few minutes.
Olympics-0h (Olympic Park): Wasn't the Opening Ceremony amazing? Sheep, ducks, muttonchops, chimney-smoke, parachuting-monarch, bouncy bedlinen, Mary Poppins, jukebox disco, reflection, parade parade parade parade, Becks on a boat, mega-cauldron, firework-tastic, amazing.
Olympics+1h (Bow): Meanwhile, somewhere outside my house or close by, the police have closed in. Tonight's Critical Mass cycle ride had been ordered to stay south of the Thames, but participants strayed instead rather close to the Olympic Park, heading along Bow Road and Stratford High Street. Here, if reports from Twitter are to be believed, the police diverted the peloton into a side road and then kettled them. Umpteen of the world's leaders were watching dancing NHS nurses half a mile away, so presumably the Met Police were in a state of finger-twitching nervousness and felt entirely justified in arresting everyone. By the time I got outside I saw only the aftermath - ten police vans parked in the middle of the Bow Roundabout, and a surprisingly large number of officers on the road up from McDonalds. A large number of confiscated bikes were stacked up outside Bow Baptist Church, each with official police paperwork in a plastic bag attached to the chassis. And the Met's crack cycle-police team were stood around muttering "they only do it for the attention" as I wandered by. Nothing good ever happens to cyclists at the Bow Roundabout. Thank goodness the world didn't notice.
Olympics+12h (Olympic Park): Right, let's go and watch some sport...
I've been writing about the Olympics coming to London ever since this blog began. It's ten years since a patch of semi-derelict industrial land west of Stratford was earmarked as the preferred site for London's Games bid. It's nine years since a space between the Bow Back Rivers was selected as the potential site for our Olympic Stadium. It's eight years since London made it onto the global shortlist and the IOC came to town. It's seven years since I stood in Trafalgar Square while Jacques Rogge opened the envelope whose contents changed the East End of London forever. It's six years since the eviction notices were served to clear dozens of homes and businesses from the Lower Lea Valley. It's five years since the blue security fence went up around the site and gates slammed shut. It's four years since the first skeleton of the Olympic Stadium arose from a freshly levelled building site. It's three years since a cafe opened in a box on the Greenway and visitors started trickling in to see what was happening. It's two years since most of the venues were structurally complete and the stadium's floodlights were first switched on. It's one year since a series of test events proved that London was already prepared for the Games. It has been a phenomenally long time coming.
And today's the day the East End's Olympics begin. All those years of preparation finally bear fruit, and the world tunes in to watch an extended fortnight of top class sport. They won't remember the recycling depot and Mercedes Service Centre that used to stand in the centre of the athletics track. They won't realise quite how many people have been involved in making this all work. They won't notice the adverts for corporate sponsors plastered all around the perimeter of the Park. They'll only see the competition, and the drama, and the world records, and the medal table, and the bemusing mysteries of the Opening Ceremony, and the diplomatic gaffes, and the drug cheats, and how fabulous/mediocre the British weather is. They won't see East London at all, apart from a few aerial shots of green riverside parkland dotted with extraordinary venues.
So yes, I know I've been blogging about the Olympics for what seems like forever, but for me it's by far the most important hyperlocal story. Yes, I know I've barely blogged about anything else for the last few weeks, but when something this astonishing happens on my doorstep why focus elsewhere? Yes I've got tickets, so I'm going to be blogging almost exclusively about the Games for the next fortnight. What's it like living nextdoor to security lockdown, how is London bearing up to the disruption, and what's the spectator experience like? I'll try to let you know.
And if you're hoping I might finally shut up about the Games once the last athletes have gone home, no such luck. We local residents still have to live with the aftermath, and that's a story with at least another ten years to tell. Will the Olympic Park become a tumbleweed white elephant, surrounded by unsaleable shoebox flats, visited by nobody? Or will we gain a rich legacy, blessed by incomparable sporting facilities, with a fresh inclusive community starting to grow? East London's Olympic story still has a long way yet to run, and tonight's Opening Ceremony is merely the end of the beginning.
The Olympics even offers medals for bouncing. Trampolining's been in the Games since 2000, with the men's event on one day and the women's on the next. The entire competition takes place in one session, with sixteen qualifiers performing two routines each, then the best eight battling for glory in a final round. No British trampolinist made the grade, so the crowd were able to be successfully unbiased through the entire two hour afternoon session. Each routine has to contain ten skills - that's ten consecutive bounces after an initial series of springs to gain height. It's all over very quickly. A minute on the trampoline is all each athlete needs, with the crucial key moves expressed in twenty seconds flat. The trampoline's massive, although the target area in the centre is only about the same size as a front door which isn't big when you're descending at speed. Indeed, not everybody made it. Some competitors edged too close to the edge and crashed and burned, their coaches holding out a safety mat to break the fall. At this level of competition one mistake destroys your score, and off home you go. But when it all works, the athleticism is amazing. Double somersaults, even triples, combined with spinning flipping outstretched spins. We didn't need the ten quid commentary gizmo to know when an athlete had done well, indeed its purchase seemed pointless given that each video replay came with full description. It soon became clear that China, Russia and Japan would dominate the event, especially the young Chinese gymnast with the unintentionally comic name of Dong Dong. He smashed the qualifying round and levitated through the final before walking off, grinning, with gold. And so it was that Dad and I ended the day standing for the national anthem of China, and we can now tick off "watching an Olympic medal ceremony" on our list of life's achievements. [seven photos]
The stands weren't full when the first match in the session began, partly because the Arena's such a long walk up the Park, but most probably because bully off was at 8:30am. Spain and Australia came out for the shaking of hands and their respective anthems, then spread out across the pitch for the match proper. The accuracy with which these men could hit and receive was impressive, else the ball would regularly have flown off into an unmarked space and the game would have been mostly stop and start. With each thwack of the stick the playing surface threw up a fountain of water, convincing proof that the blue pitch wasn't painted grass but some artificial skin. We spectators had little idea of the relative abilities of the teams, but the five nil whitewash soon proved that Australia were the more talented side. Belgium versus the Netherlands was a much tighter match, and also supported by considerably more spectators from the respective countries. BestMate and I were sat amongst a smattering of Belgians, mostly families, cheering loudly but never raucously (except when their lone goal was scored). The Dutch were more in evidence, both in colour and in voice, with entire banks of seating seemingly coloured orange. Even when it rained, out came orange ponchos and up went orange brollies to maintain the illusion. As this second match neared conclusion the Belgians substituted their goalkeeper with a forward, so desperate were they to pull back into contention, but that backfired when they conceded a further goal and the final whistle saw them three one down.
I've seen several team game matches at the Olympics, but only one involving the host nation. Great Britain versus Argentina in the men's handball was a match heavy with unspoken subtext, although in the wider context of the Games nothing more than an obscure sideshow between the two weakest teams in Pool A. The crowd were wildly partisan throughout, even from the moment the two teams strode in from the changing rooms. Flags erupted from the stands, cheers rang out around the arena, and armchair sports fans offered shouts of encouragement to the GB team. Hopes were high at the start of the match, not least because few present realised we'd won neither of our previous matches. Things looked fairly close to begin with, as every British attack was applauded, and our goals raised the roof. Handball's a very end-to-end game, with players throwing and bouncing the ball around the edge of the D-zone before either hurling at goal or losing possession. It soon became clear that we were doing the latter more than the former, and the Argentine team edged into a slim but persistent lead. That didn't stop the cheers, and the crowd's increasingly over-optimistic hopes. The fifty-something couple behind me never stopped urging Our Lads on ("Come on Team GB!") or offering advice ("defend, defend!"), despite their vocal input having zero impact apart from contributing to the overall hubbub. By the second half the margin between the two teams was unassailable, but the flags still waved and the encouragement remained strong. It struck me how much the country has united behind Team GB, resolute in unflinching support, blinkered by the quest for medals. I can't get into it myself - I lack the euphoric empathy needed to be swept along by Olympic competition. So when the match ended and we were 32-21 down I wasn't downhearted, nor indeed disappointed, merely pleased to have attended another amazing Olympic event.
Today's one of the busiest days in the Olympic Park, as the Athletics finally kicks off and two additional stadiumfuls of spectators pour inside. But can the Park cope? It's been busy enough these last couple of days, especially at lunchtime and in the early evening inbetween sessions. With a hundred thousand more bodies milling around hunting for food, entertainment or the exit, there'll be a lot more pressure on the main routes between the venues. Up on the tarmac walkways an army of Games Makers are attempting to establish a "Keep Left" policy. It's worked well thus far, and has also prevented too many collisions with oncoming mobility vehicles. The network of footpaths nearer the river has also coped well, not least because most visitors haven't discovered they can walk this way. But there's an unexpected pressure point amongst the landscaped gardens, because people will insist on walking where they shouldn't.
The Park's designers haven't helped themselves in several respects. Several paths take the long route, so the shortcut across the flowers looks mighty tempting. Some of the paths in the Park are dead ends, so perhaps it's not surprising when people decide to continue. The big screens have insufficient lawn space, so spectators are trampling the bedding plants to get a view. One long semicircular lawn near the bandstand has only one entrance, so it's entirely understandable when people decide to head onwards through the vegetation at the far end. Some of the planted beds have low groundcover which is precisely the sort of thing you might walk across in woodland, so why not here? And once one person's walked the wrong way the path grows, and bad behaviour spreads.
I realise now how fortunate I was to see the gardens on their first morning - pristine, untouched and unsullied. Back then a number of Games Makers were dotted throughout the parkland, seemingly doing nothing, but they've since been withdrawn and now there's almost no supervision. It's a shame to see the Olympic Park Gardens being disrespected by visitors who don't seem to realise what they're doing. Don't worry, it's only a minor issue at the moment, and the 2012 Gardens in the southern half of the park are barely affected. The parklands are still absolutely gorgeous, a true triumph of the Games, but the degeneration can only increase.
Park Live succeeds because it's about sport. Indeed, it's the only place in the entire Olympic Park to keep up with what's going on in the rest of the Games. In conjunction with LOCOG, a giant two-sided video screen has been plonked in the centre of the River Lea, with spectator space on two landscaped lawns on either bank. There's something similar in Hyde Park and Victoria Park, but they have tacky marketing sideshows attached, whereas here it's just grass and flowers. If Rebecca's in the pool and you've not got tickets, you can watch her here. If Bradley's getting a medal, you can watch him here. OK, so every now and then the action cuts away to adverts for Major Airline, but nowhere near as often as you might expect. OK, so presenters insist on stalking the crowd and trying to whip up enthusiasm, but again, not so often. Staff hand out Union Jack plastic mats to sit on, and Team GB temporary tattoos for children, while stocks last. On Saturday there was plenty of space, and the lawns were pristine. By yesterday the grass was rammed, with folk squished into all the contoured lawns, nearly bursting out across the surrounding flowerbeds and cheering every British triumph. To all the companies below, if you'd made your pavilion more about sport than about yourselves, you might have been more successful.
Silver) Fizzy-drink Beatbox
This pavilion has a prime position in the Park, and looks like it ought to be fun. I mean, HD 3D Theatre, that's proper 21st century. Instead queueing takes an age, with 100 people let inside only every 25 minutes. You're given 3D glasses and urged to switch them on, although the glasses are black, the switch is black and the room is dark, so that's quite hard. Then you watch some Olympic-related promotional videos, and and see some of the latest Olympic events in 3D. And that doesn't last long enough. The action then switches to the back of the room where a cheesy salesman attempts to demonstrate the company's new smart TV set. The presentation was so forced that half the audience walked out early, and rightly so. Unless the queue's short, don't bother.
Fencing's one of those events that people only notice at the Olympics, and then not much because it gets drowned by the bigger sports. Hence the arena at ExCel was filled by thousands of people who weren't entirely sure of the rules of what they were going to see. A useful set of videos run at the start of each Olympic session, outlining the basics, but once the action starts you soon realise you've not taken enough of them on board. It took me some time to deduce that fencing is a "first to score 15" sport, which I could have read in my information leaflet except the grandstands were all bathed in darkness. In contrast the floor was lit up like the set of Tron, with a brightly coloured piste in each corner of the floor. Throughout our six hour session we got to watch four simultaneous fencing bouts, which didn't make for easy viewing. If a cheer went went up, you'd likely not know why. If some incident made a quarter of the crowd gasp, your eye was probably elsewhere. Things were easier when Team GB took to the stage, as the partisan crowd cheered them on to the exclusion of all others. Alas our top medal hope Richard Kruse crumbled quickly, and other plucky Brits weren't far behind. Instead we transferred our support to various international swordsmen of note, notably the dark horse Egyptian, swishing and parrying their way to success. Things would have been much easier to understand if there'd been a commentary, but that wasn't possible unless you paid ten pounds for an electronic gizmo. I'm sure London 2012 are dead proud of their radio-earphone service, but they completely failed to promote it apart from a single illegible poster in the services area and one brief sentence in the warm-up preamble. I thought the little purple boxes the programme sellers were clutching were Cadbury chocolates, and by the time I'd worked out otherwise it was too late to be interested. So I spent six hours in a mostly-baffled crowd, applauding politely, enjoying the spectacle. If you'd have been watching online, with commentary, you'd no doubt have felt closer to the action.
Normally it's two batsmen stepping out from the Pavilion End, but for the Olympics it's two archers. They emerge carrying their bow, and a spare bow just in case, and two white-suited MCC gentlemen open the wicker gate so they can proceed onto the pitch. Each stands at the firing line while their coach stands several paces behind, with a telescopic viewfinder for keeping track of line of fire. A quiver of fresh arrows is brought out for each round, that's three shots at target, which in this case is located directly 70m across the cricket square. Shots fire at 200kmh, which makes the arrows very hard to see, so the camera pointing at the bullseye is invaluable. It's amazing how many times the competitors managed to score 9 or 10, which we rewarded with applause or a cheer respectively, while anything below a 7 earned a dismayed sigh. The match swiftly equated to a game of mental arithmetic (9, 9 and what will beat 10, 7 and 8?), a subject at which the American commentator proved less than competent. Top seed Im Dong Hyun, who's the world record holder yet legally blind, sailed through against a competitor from San Marino. The crowd contained more than its fair share of South Koreans who waved plastic flags every time he won points, which was often. Other winners included the young, the middle aged, the fit and the obese - there are few athletic barriers to archery success. Definitely my favourite sport so far. [ten photos]
Only twelve countries get to take part in the Olympic women's basketball tournament, but it still takes an age to complete. They're not necessarily countries you'd expect to see either, and that's certainly the first time I've ever had to stand for the national anthem of Angola. Never mind the geography, feel the quality. These were teams with considerable talents, and considerably tall women too. With players up to six foot five in height, it clearly helps to be lanky, although it's not essential. More important is the killer instinct when throwing a ball, and it's astonishing the accuracy with which players can hit a hoop only 45cm in diameter. This was fast and furious end-to-end stuff, which kept the crowd loud and animated at all times. Turkey were always ahead in the first match, much to the delight of the Prime Minister who was watching from somewhere in the stands. Alas Michelle Obama didn't come to see the USA's women, she came the next day to see the men, but her girls needed little encouragement. Croatia stayed within striking distance until the fourth quarter when the game slipped away, a few too many missed chances, a few too many muffed shots. Not that you care. These are merely the preliminary rounds of a competition Team GB has no hope in, but when you're a spectator in the hyped-up cauldron of an Olympic arena, somehow which team wins briefly matters.
What most people do
What most people do
What most people do
What most people do
There's surprisingly little shelter on the Olympic Park.
Olympics-9h (Tower of London): The Royal Barge, Gloriana, comes to a halt on the river outside City Hall. The Olympic Flame is burning from a cauldron at the prow, having been rowed all the way down the Thames from Hampton Court. Viewed from the southern bank, five coloured rings and Tower Bridge form a most impressive backdrop. Alas viewed from the northern bank, the back of the rings is white and pretty much blocks Gloriana from view. Nothing much happens for about half an hour, or nothing we can see from the Tower of London. A tiny figure runs amok on the pontoon, torch aloft, flame burning, then disappears from view. Somehow the flame crosses to City Hall, it's impossible to see how. It's only possible to deduce that the Relay is over when Gloriana rows off, first back towards HMS Belfast, then onward through Tower Bridge. "Did we miss it?" asks an American tourist who's arrived too late. French TV pack up their roving camera and head off somewhere else. They look like they'd much rather be by the Seine, and oh so nearly were.
Olympics-7h (Westfield): Stratford City shopping centre has metamorphosed into a global melee. Competitors and their coaching staff are spilling out of a gate from the Athletes Village for a bit of souvenir hunting and food shopping. At long last Stratford International lives up to its name, as the station is at the heart of the action. On the plaza by the DLR, the pin badge sellers have set up camp. Some have laid their wares out on a cloth on the ground, another wears his collection on a pink cape and delights in showing off his rarest specimens to an appreciative audience. Step carefully or you'll get into shot of some nation's TV news - they're from Japan, and over along the border of the Park, that's Gibraltar. The magenta signs along the edge of the Park have been updated, with wording that now reads "Ceremony ticket holders only" and "No access from 3pm". The army are swarming round the sandwiches in Waitrose, clearing the shelves, then heading off to sit outside beneath overcast skies. The buzz is palpable, the expectancy approaching fever pitch, at least until the public get kicked out at three and the pre-ceremony security lockdown begins.
Olympics-0h (Olympic Park): Wasn't the Opening Ceremony amazing? Sheep, ducks, muttonchops, chimney-smoke, parachuting-monarch, bouncy bedlinen, Mary Poppins, jukebox disco, reflection, parade parade parade parade, Becks on a boat, mega-cauldron, firework-tastic, amazing.
