In my last post I mentioned the so-called Olympic legacy. This is the government's idea that, because those Lycra-clad show-offs of Team GB won a few bits of scrap metal and half a yard of coloured ribbon, we should all be joining gymnastic clubs, swimming fifty lengths before breakfast, cycling thirty miles every Sunday and entering marathons. Well – something like that.
My six-year old grandson had a different angle on the whole event. He was very taken by the medal ceremonies and likes nothing better than to re-create them. My wife bought him a small pool table last year, so every time he visits we all have to take part in a pool tournament. He likes playing the game but his real enjoyment comes at the end. I've let him have my triathlon medals to play with. (After all, they're only bits of old iron and strips of ribbon). He uses a brass one for gold, a greyish looking one for silver and the rest all pass for bronze. The winner, which is always him of course, gets the gold hung around his neck and the rest of us take what's left. He stands on a stool while we all stand either side and sing the National Anthem. I don't suppose it's quite what Lord Coe had in mind but at least it's fired the young chap's imagination.
I have several techniques to stimulate my creative thinking. Spending time with my grandson is one of them. I think it's probably the best. After all – he inspired this post.