London Olympics: The spirit of 2012

The last three weeks have been simply wonderful.

I have absolutely loved the London 2012 Olympics Games, pretty much from beginning to end.

From the moment we heard London had won I was an enthusiastic supporter, which at times left me in a minority. However I had confidence in this great city and felt there was no reason why we couldn't pull this one off.

But even I had no idea it would be such fun.

Those trips down to Weymouth, on the Nothe, a perfect cone of grass, surrounded by happy, enthusiastic sailing fans, families of the sailors and seeing legends left and right, felt like a second home. 

And for those days where I didn't have a ticket everything was streamed live on the BBC web site, so you could follow every tack or use the brilliant iOS / Androd apps to get the latest results.

To support the actual games there was impressive organisation and those thousands and thousands of volunteers who gave London 2012 its heart. Bravo!

Then there were simply magical nights standing in front of the TV watching records being broken and new stars getting golds for Team GB, the likes of Jess and Mo, now household names for which no surname is required.

And what a result - Team GB 3rd in the medal table with 29 golds.

London itself seemed to be alive, partying, with the National Houses, tall ships and Vikings, Gloriana bringing the Olympic flame to Tower Bridge, where five coloured rings were interlinked high above the river Thames.

There was that amazing opening ceremony which captured and defined modern Britain in a way we are still processing. (Ok the closing was a terrible wasted opportunity but mentally I've replaced it with my own which was so much better).

Now it is over, and its back to reality on this isle full of noise, to quote The Tempest again:

That, if I then had waked after long sleep,

Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open and show riches

Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,

I cried to dream again.

Less a tempest than a time of wonder, one that we knew at the time was special, one that will never come again, one that will become part of our history like a Churchillian speech filled with tears of joy.