London 2012 part 1 of 2

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10.30 am. We queue onto the Megabus to London. Once everyone’s taken their seats, the bus driver stands at the front to give a special Olympic speech: Due to a cycle race, road closures, a massive diversion and yet more road closures, our his assessment of our chances of arriving within an hour or even two of our planned ETA of 1pm are “It ain’t gonna happen.” Everyone nods in resigned agreement. Chris and I decide that our realistic and achievable goal is to achieve being-in-London by 11pm. Before tea would be a bonus.



11.45 am The scenery around the M4 corridor looks something like the British Rural Idyll portrayed in the first scenes of the Olympic opening ceremony. We hurtle along. I practice some Spanish, listen to some music, and read the paper. The Times has decided that its editorial policy regarding the games is going to be Positive and Uplifting. This feels confusing and unnatural.



1 pm We have eaten our picnic lunch, and have attained Outer London. The bus driver finds that the route to Bayswater Road is unexpectedly not closed, and finds himself moved to speech: “Oh mate, I tell you, I’m going down there- there are no signs or nothing- I don’t care if the BBC end up filming me reversing all the way back- I’m giving it a go. If this is open all the way I’m going to be the only driver even a bit on time. I’m so happy I could cry, mate, honestly.”



Our luck runs out at Marble Arch, and we are taken on a slightly rambling diversion, but our low expectations are still comfortably exceeded. Congratulations on some masterful PR, Transport for London.



Central London looks manicured. It’s full of the bright-jacketed volunteers and stewards, as well as the usual weekend wandering public. The policemen stroll in pairs with genial smiles. It could be some kind of well-staffed street party or unusually secure school sports day. We arrive in the bus station at 2pm. The bus driver gets a round of applause.

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