Yep, in just a few weeks, London will be awash with a plethora of finely honed athletes jogging all over the place, clad in skin-tight lycra. But I will be in Oxford. Arse. My sense of pain is tangible - like standing on a plug with bare feet.
I would have liked to have attended some of the Olympic events because it's like a school sport's day (and I like them), except bigger, and without the 'egg and spoon' race. But tickets were virtually impossible to procure because they had all been allocated to dodgy MPs and corporations with lots of wonga.
Not that I actually tried too hard to get tickets, mind. Knowing my luck, I would probably have ended up watching endurance synchronised swimming or darts (how can that be a sport when the competitors have beer bellies?).
Just as I was consigning the Olympic games to snatched snippets on the TV, suddenly an opportunity arose to get involved .... albeit in a small way. It turned out that the Olympic torch was touring the UK before arriving at the Olympic stadium. And the route was passing through Oxford.
"Izzy," I said, "would you like to see the Olympic torch, it's a once in a lifetime opportunity."
"What's a lifetime?" she asked staring at me intently. Sacre bleu.
"It's the amount of time you are alive before you die," I said.
"I don't want to die," Izzy replied, wide-eyed.
"Look, you are not going to die," I said in an exasperated fashion, "but do you want to see the bloody Olympic torch or not?"
"Don't say bloody, it's swearing," she pointed out.
"Sorry, do you want to see the lovely Olympic torch?" I asked with a Wallace and Gromit grin.
"Yes please," she said, grinning back.
So at 5.15pm on Monday, we drove into Oxford towards the route of the Olympic torch. The closer we got to the official route, the more we noticed that the roads were jammed with the parked cars of other spectators. Crikey, loads of people had turned up to watch the Olympic torch! That's patriotic that is. It made me want to sing the National Anthem but I didn't because people would stare.
Luckily we found a parking space in the Lidl carpark right next to the action (because I am raggy like that), and it wasn't long before we met up with Steve (Izzy's dad) who had decided to join us. And because I am kinder than Mother Theresa, except that I don't like kittens, I have got some pictures for you ....... enjoy ......................
Pic.No.1 The parade started on Watlington Road, Oxford. There were loads of coppers on motorbikes flashing their blue lights. Shouldn't they be catching career criminals like speeding motorists?
Pic.No.2 The crowds lined the route as far as the eye could see ....... and I was gobsmacked that the Olympic route was through the ugliest suburbs of Oxford, avoiding all the amazing bits altogether. Whose idea was that then?
Pic.No.3 Izzy and Steve waited for the Olympic torch to pass by
Pic.No.4 The Olympic parade eventually appeared, headed by a bus. I reckon if it was headed by a lycra-clad athlete aloft a dobbin, they would have drummed up more spectators .... probably
Pic.No.5 The crowds thronged around the vehicles in the parade
Pic.No.6 A couple of buses containing scantily clad women dancing to the Olympic theme tune passed by. Steve kept his hands in his pockets and looked shifty
Pic.No.7 Yet more buses and floats passed by, blaring out jingoistic music ..... including a Lloyds TSB bus (yep, Lloyds TSB was a bank bailed out by the government after the financial crisis). Luckily they didn't get tomatoes thrown at them because that would have been a waste of food because I have tomatoes on my shopping list
Pic.No.8 The police were heavily in attendance throughout because of terrorist threats. Apparently Al Qaeda favour Coca Cola buses as a target of choice
Pic.No.9 Woo hoo! And finally the Olympic torch runner appeared ..... that's the bloke in the white outfit. He had pointy knees
Pic.No.10 The money shot. The Olympic torch runner flanked by two rather dishy support runners. Woof.
Pic.No.11 The route of the Olympic torch was constantly filmed by a van full of paparazzi driving in front of the runners ..... and then it was all over
Pic.No.12 A close-up of the Olympic torch that I nicked from the internet. It had 8000 perforations in it, each representing one of the 8000 people who carried the torch en-route throughout the UK to London. Each runner had their own personal torch, and a lot of them flogged them on Fleabay after the event
Watching all those people doing athleticky type things had made me feel hungry, so I suggested to Steve that we take Izzy to a local Nepalese restaurant for dinner. I hadn't tried it before, and even better, it meant I could avoid having to cook something in my kitchen.
Pic.No.13 This is Steve and Izzy outside the 'Everest Nepalese Restaurant'. It was in an obscure suburb of Oxford
Pic.No.14 At last! A picture of me. It was too long in coming. Here I am inside the Everest restaurant, and I was initially suspicious of the fact that it was quite empty. But to be fair it was 6pm on a Monday evening
Pic.No.15 This is what Nepalese scoff looked like. It was quite similar to Indian, but with Chinese and Tibetan influences, in particular the mo-mo that I had as a starter (it was a spicy lamb dumpling - bloody lovely it was)
Pic.No.16 Izzy was impressed with her Nepalese curry. Good girl - she's never afraid to try new stuff .... or pose for the camera
So was the food good? Well yes, it was above average; tasty and a bit different. But the downside was that the bill came to £68.00 ($109.00). Holy Mary Mother of God! It was a lot on the high side for an impromptu evening out ..... which, I suspect, is the reason that the restaurant remained mainly empty for the duration we were there. It's a shame because I would probably have gone back there ........
Anyway dahlink, enough of me ..... what have you been up to this week, and are you doing anything Olympic over the next couple of weeks?