Yesterday morning I was woken up at an un-Godly hour (I am not a morning person) by the piercing ring of my doorbell. I staggered into my sub-zero hallway and opened the front door in nothing but my pyjamas that although are as sexually alluring as a wet paper bag, still managed to draw attention to the thermometer-like qualities around my chest area. The rather jolly young man on my doorstep was either used to such unwitting displays of the feminine form by subconscious strangers or was being a perfect gentleman and kept his gaze firmly on my puffy face and Brilopad hair. He had an intriguing white envelope in one hand with my name on it and a contraption that looked like a credit-card reader in the other. I made what remotely resembled my signature with the tooth pick as an excuse for a pen on the reader surface and returned to my bed (thankfully still warm) with my newly acquired envelope. Intrigue quickly shook me from my dozy state and I quickly opened this unexpected envelope. Inside was a pair of tickets to attend a session of the London 2012 Olympic Beach Volleyball finals at Horse Guards in August!
When London was preparing its bid to host the Games nearly a decade ago, I almost ruptured a vital organ through laughing so much on learning that part of the bid included hosting the alluring sport of (female) Beach Volleyball in a morally reserved, office-lined area of London that may well be sandy but couldn’t be further from the coast if it tried. The thought of beautifully toned, bronzed, bikini-clad damsels freezing their little pert bottom-cheeks off in the middle of an over-sized, rain-drenched sand-pit whilst local office-workers spent their lunch hour salivating over this spectacle was surely enough to clinch the deal for Lord Coe. I vowed if it did I would endeavour to get tickets for this event just to see all those red-faced men desperately tugging at their collars and ties whilst these goddesses were at play before them.
Well, whether it was instrumental or not, London obviously did win the bid and I was lucky enough to purchase a pair to the event in the first round of ticket sales nearly a year ago. Not surprisingly, I became rather popular amongst my male work-colleagues who learnt of my acquisition and are still trying to convince me that they would be the perfect partner to accompany me to the event.
The tickets are sourvenirs in themselves, together with a pair of one day travelcards to cover the cost of travel to the event from anywhere in London (zones 1-9) on that day, a colourful, informative brochure on the event …
Yippee! I’m going to the Olympics!
… and a “Team GB” supporter’s sticker to attach upon my person and declare myself proud to be British.
Only the one bib sticker though, so my partner and I will take it in turns to wear it on the day, until it becomes dog-eared and peels off on its own accord
I’ve got some Paralympics tickets on their way too. Hopefully, I will get the email and text informing me of their delivery the day before they arrive and not like yesterday (which I found out later) when the unexpected notifications were sent to my switched off mobile and Mac less than an hour before the Postman was ringing my doorbell and the sun was barely off the horizon.
I’m so excited about the Olympics being only weeks away, I’m skipping around my flat wearing the bib sticker right now!
TLT x