Olympic emotion

Ten days ago as you will have seen from Em's last post the olympics started. It began on a Friday morning, marked by the ringing of bells, bells that did not stop ringing for three minutes.

I was getting ready for work at the time, and was watching with interest. As I watched something stirred inside me, the sound of the bells ringing and knowing it was happening all round the country felt  historic, unifying and moving. I felt a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes and was taken a back by my response to the start of the games.

In the evening we watched the opening ceremony with friends. Banners were made.

The ceremony was amazing, inspiring, clever and funny, but most of all showed off all the good things we can do as a country.

By the end of the weekend I, like most of Britain had spent the weekend watching the tv, completely engulfed in the events, and so it continued all week. Last Saturday morning tired by the week I sat down to watch the rowing, and at midday ended with tears flowing down by face - brought on by seeing the joy of victory and the despair of defeat within the space of half an hour.

Yesterday, we were privileged to be able to go to the Olympic park, with a stop en-route to see the olympic rings.

It was all it promised to be. Excitement, atmosphere, it did not disappoint - it was even better in reality, to see and be part of another moment in history.

As night fell the lights dominated the sky line.

We wandered home tired but exhilarated by all we had seen. The games have provided a theatre in which we have watched the hard work of four years for those taking part ending sometimes in pain, many times in joy. The bells ringing last week were just the start of that emotional journey.

Jane