English: Tom Daley, British diver, at the parade in London to celebrate the achievements of British competitors at the 2008 Summer Olympics. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I am feeling bereft. That may be because I have woken this morning with a stinking cold – in August? No, I think it is because THE GAMES will be over today. I have watched an event every day, and been enthralled by every one. From the opening ceremony to yesterday’s spectacular track events and Tom Daley‘s diving, it’s been magic. I was never that interested in sport, apart from show jumping (see Jilly Cooper’s novels) and ice skating (I did it as a child). But these past two weeks have made me realise what I’d been missing.
So, I have been asking myself these questions: why didn’t I do more sport as a kid, and why didn’t I encourage my kids to participate in sport more than they did? The answer to the first question is easy. There just weren’t enough opportunities when I was growing up. As as I went to a convent, getting too red in the face was frowned upon. We did do netball and I always played Centre – can’t quite remember what that entailed apart from getting very red and quite sweaty. What I do recall is how the nuns ran about like mad bats in their black habits and white whimples, yelling at us to ‘Shoot! Shoot!’ Not many balls went into the net when I was on the team, however.
We did have one claim to Olympic fame, however. Judy Grinham. Judy went to my school and was a heroine. Now a grandmother, she competed in the 1956 Olympic Games in Melborne, winning the the 100 m backstroke in 1 minute 2.9 seconds, which was a world record at the time. She was a lot older than me and my only real connection to her is that we were both educated by the same nuns and both went to Gladstone Park swimming pool in Neasdon, London. All I can remember about that pool is being thrown in by a group of local lads who thought it would be funny to see a 10 year old drown. But it felt great to know that Judy had won that medal. She was lucky. She obviously had parents who encouraged her; unusual in 195o’s. Girls were supposed to be secretaries for a couple of years before they sacrificed themselves to husband and children.
My sporting life ended when my kids came along, although I did keep up the skating for a couple of years and managed not to break anything. As far as my children were concerned, only my last child competed in any way. She was mad on horses, so most weekends were spent in muddy fields, praying that she didn’t fall off and break her neck. (This is guaranteed to give any mother tinnitus). She gave up when she went to university, but she still rides for pleasure, so something came out of all those frantic weekends. A wall in her bedroom, covered with rosettes…
There is one sport I would like to take up seriously these days. Walking. I don’t mean an amble down to the shops but a serious, swing your bottom from side to side, wear all the right gear, have a very focused look in your eye type of walking. I really will have to pluck up the courage to join a group. Groups encourage you and make you feel inferior at the same time, but they do get you going. They can be very serious and the wrong type of hat or rucksack may cause murmurings. You have to get it right if you join a group. There are acres of walking country where I live, yet I very rarely get out there and do it. I have walking boots, which is a start. But as yet, I don’t have the kit and the right socks. I believe you have to wear several pairs if you are serious about walking; an cotton internal pair, a pure wool top pair… I’m sure there are more. They must be applied to your feet like skin on an onion and I believe they prevent blisters? I have never walked anywhere for more than thirty minutes without getting blister somewhere on my feet.
As today is Sunday, I think I will start with a walk across the local beach. Watch this space if you want to know how I get on…
