A passing flame
Only a churl would have stayed at home sipping tea rather than miss the intense excitement of the Olympic Torch. Rushed out with Lorraine and a sleepy Betty to watch the great event pass about 50 yards from the Old Church Hall. The flame was preceded by a couple of corporate trucks pumping lively music and DJs exhortations to enthusiasm from the sleepy crowd. Then a big van crammed with cameras and the flame carried by a woman, flanked by runners in grey presumably police, passed at about 7:50.The flame was transferred to a man, in a pagan firesex ritual, who loped off towards a thronging Preston Park. Curiously, it wasn't raining, and even I, an Olympic humbugger of the worst sort, saw that its passing had brought smiles to people's faces. Able just to contain my excitement, I went on with my writing interspersed with tea drinking and chatting to Betty, who is making a speedy recovery thanks to the antibiotics. Off late in the afternoon to collect Klaudia and Oskar from their...