The Olympics

Wow!

What an opening ceremony.  This is the morning after the party before and I'm still buzzing from an absolutely mesmerising and stunning Danny Boyle produced spectacular.

It's our time, it's Britain's time to shine and last night we shone like the brightest diamond from her majesties crown jewels.  Let's get one thing straight, we were never going to try to match the awesome spectacle of Beijing from four years ago, for starters to match the pyrotechnics of Beijing we would have to spend the equivalent of our defence budget, it wasn't going to happen.  No, these are our games, this is our ceremony and were going to showcase what it means to be British.  The show would, over three pulsating hours, represent Britains history from our rise of Empire through our Industrial revolution, showcase our sought after culture and proudly boast of our continuing contribution to the world stage through the world wide web.

Being a natural cynic for all things coming out of our Government i was expecting, no dreading a drab austerity restricted show, heavily censored by the PC brigade and dripping with nauseating gushiness to the world.  What we got was dramatic, totally British, (take us or leave us) inspired artistry from one of Britain's most brilliant if not quirky film producers with the likes of Trainspotting and Slumdog millionaire in his CV.

Our Empire may be a distant memory, our Fleet no longer rules the waves.  We are a poor nation and our military might is diminishing but one thing was loud and proud last night, we're the Brits and we're still here!

 Who could not smile and recognise Britain's pastoral past with Doyle's vision of the countryside spread out far and wide over the floor of the Olympic stadium.  There were sheep, sheep dogs, horses, cattle , goats and peasant villagers roaming the floor at the foot of Glastonbury Tor as the anthems from England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland were sung and shown on the big screens with Flower of Scotland from Edinburgh Castle, Londonderry Air from the Giant's Causeway, Cwm Rhondda from Rossilli Beach and Jerusalem from the stadium.  Who could not watch in wonderment as the Britain's green and pleasant land gave way to the rising stacks of the Industrial Revolution as the smoking factory chimneys rose hundreds of feet into the air watched over by Brannaghs' imperious portrayal of Isambard Kingdom Brunel.  Who's heart didn't beat proudly as our gift's to the world were unashamedly shown off to a world wide tv audience in excess of 4billion people and the fabulous volunteer production crew produced from the flames of Brunels furnaces the five Olympic rings - this was truly a vision of Britains dark satanic mills.

Then we moved to our culture, and the rhythmic beat of untold generations pounded throughout the stadium, our tv culture tantalisingly glimpsed through the windows of a typical british suburban semi, our literature was played out as tens of Mary Poppinses dropped from the sky and eponymous villains Voldermort and Captain Hook tried to terrorise children in their beds.  J K Rowling read from Peter Pan as this fantasy vista drifted into a nod to the British Health service as hundreds of beds wheeled and bounced under the feet of 'patient' children.

We had surreal moments too, would the world 'get' our British humour, frankly who cared.  Mr Bean contributed in his own inimitable way to a rendition of 'Chariots of Fire' and then there was the Queen. Was this really happening?  James bond at the Palace picking up the Queen...her Maj referring to him as Mr bond and then in a moment of clever tv trickery watching in amazement as her majesty arrives in the stadium by parachuting from a helicopter...was this a throw to the LSD laden 60's?

Before too long it was the parade of nations as the proud athletes entered the stadium.  We had suits, grass skirts, robes and coats of many colours representing the 200 plus nations competing at the 30th Olympiad.  Seb Coe told the world how proud we were, Jacques Rogge acknowledged how we gave sport to the world and the Queen in her cut glass accent opened the games, job done.

As the evening drifted into morning everybody from the athletes, spectators and viewing audience drifted away to the tones of McCartney and Hey Jude....Hey, Jude!  what did you think of that...?

MAGNIFICENT