A bucolic scene. The English, or I should say the Southern Lowland English countryside in all it's timeless warmth and splendour. A flock of sheep are grazing a distant hill and a dairy herd make their way in for milking. Farmers in other places may work the modern three crop rotation of barley, oil seed rape and pop festival but here Dan Archer steadily ploughs his fields in the time honoured fashion turning his pair of shires at the headland with a skill passed down through the generations. The quiet is broken only by birdsong and the sound of willow striking leather as the village cricket team, led by The Squire, romp home to victory. There will be cucumber sandwiches for tea. Look, is that John Major cycling off to Holy Communion? And that gaunt figure over there by the moshpit. Is that George Orwell doing a posthumous reading of The Lion And The Unicorn? This of course is Danny Boyle's vision of the Olympic Opening. This fantasy of small scale agriculture, all higgledy-piggledy, allotments, ponies grazing, low impact sports pitches, The Grundys dealing in a bit of scrap and people ducking and diving to make a bob or two - wasn't that a bit like the Lee Valley before all this bollocks?
I'm not anti Olympics, honestly I'm not. I want the athletes, especially the ones who have little chance of a medal, to have an experience that will last them for the rest of their lives. I hope that kids will be inspired to take up sport and I also hope that when the cobwebs are cleared from our eyes and the truth of the "legacy" is revealed for all to see, I really hope that local communities end up with some improved sports facilities, But you'll forgive me if I say that I'll believe it when I see it.
1 comment:
No wastelands or those haunting places under flyovers and bridges? Cemeteries, race or Indian take aways? The caravan club and unpredictable weather? Black athletes and their history in the uk?
Piss poor. Better stick to zombies Danny Boy, the pipes are calling!
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