Top Man

Finally, the Olympics came to south west London. A morning of recovering from last night, and then we were off to this blipper's house for the big event. Some gentle easing in with football and hula hooping (and a few gallons of Pimms and the barbie, round one, helped us along the way too) and then the high jump contest we'd all been waiting for. Two halves were always intended - one contest for the kids and one for the grown ups, but the gap between them was protracted by an 'is it broken or not' tumble and a trip to A&E for my stoic godson (it wasn't, hurrah).

The grown ups' event was even more exciting than predicted, with several dropping out in the early stages (like me - high jump in a short dress is not to be recommended) and two competitors scaling the unlikely heights of 1.20 metres. But in the end Springer Harris was the undisputed victor, with a new all-comers record. It was quite emotional seeing him up there on the podium (chair) to receive his first ever sporting trophy. At a mere 42 years old, who knows what glory awaits.

Later, there was lots of volleyball with an inflatable globe, some dodgy singing and much chat about rude books (we think the kids were inside at that point). Katherine was very much amused to be going home in a taxi after midnight, particularly when we saw a fox on the way back.