Twelve months ago and I signed up for Olympic news. We weren’t going to miss this one – we’d be in there when the tickets went on sale.
Two months ago and the schedule was launched. We flicked through and put it in the pile of Things To Do.
Six weeks ago and the tickets went on sale. We must do that, we thought. We must decide what we want to see.
Ten days to go and I tried to make some sense of the schedule. I gave up.
A week to go and I set the offspring to the task of figuring out what we should see. They produced a list that would need three weeks in London and a second mortgage on the house.
Two days to go and I had to rationalise the list. I gave up.
Twelve hours to go; nothing like a deadline to force some action. But I needed a spreadsheet, a calendar view of what’s on, and all I could find was a long list of everything. How on earth was I supposed to figure out a sensible timetable? In the end, I gave up trying to be clever. I picked three days when the swimming overlapped with the athletics and applied for swimming, athletics and the velodrome. Like everyone else. The cheapest tickets. Like everyone else.
I thought about applying for handball or waterpolo. I would have liked to apply for BMX and canoe slalom. Logistics defeated me and I eventually decided that, failing all else, we can probably get tickets for less popular events in the resale next year.
We did wonder, round the dinner table when I confessed how much the tickets might cost, why we couldn’t be given the option to turn down tickets we were offered, Wimbledon-style. Our consensus was that there are so many tickets involved for the Olympics that this would be a logistical nightmare.
I’m trying not to think about how much all those tickets I have applied for will cost if I get them all. But I won’t, so it’s not a real problem.
Failing all else we can go and watch the cycling time trial and the marathon.
And of course there’s always the Commonwealth Games in Glasgow to come!