Thursday

Having decided that the London Olympics was nothing to do with us, we found ourselves in Katakolon - the port for ancient Olympia on the very day that the flame was to be lit to start the torch relay. Well, we had to be there, didn't we?

We boarded the almost empty small train right by the quayside that would take us directly there. It was only once we were on our way and paying our fare that the conductor informed us that today the train would only return as far as Pargos, the next town along the line. Ok, we'd worry about that later. In the meantime our quiet train was suddenly flooded with sixth formers complete with piercing voices and the distinctive aroma of armpits and bubble gum. All I'll say is that they don't have the same idea of personal space as the Brits!

We thought we might get a look at the ancient site, maybe visit the museum as well. No chance. The police were everywhere and funnelling everyone into a particular entrance via metal detectors and bag searches. Following the crowd we found ourselves sitting on a grassy bank in full sun, surrounded by school kids and waiting for the bigwigs below to take their seats below us. For some reason they preferred to linger in the cool of a shady tree while lackeys carried bottled waters to them and never mind us plebs.

Naturally we'd started to wonder what the hell we were doing there waiting for a load of speeches in Greek. Surprisingly much of the ceremony was in English and following the turgid Olympic anthem the raising of the Union Flag to the strains of 'God Save the Queen' suddenly had me by that slender thread of patriotism I didn't know I still possessed. When "Lord Sebastian Coe" was announced, well, I was clapping and cheering, taking photos of the distant figure on the stand.

Only the elite were allowed to go to the temple for the actual lighting of the flame, supposedly direct from the light of the sun itself. Except, with perfect timing, the sun was suddenly covered by the first cloud we'd seen all day. I assume they have contingency plans or maybe someone had a cigarette lighter.

Either way, dancing 'nymphs' came over the hill, one of them clutching what looked like Aladdin's lamp containing the flame. As she stood at the top of the hill it soon became apparent that the flame had gone out. "It's an omen, I tell you" muttered Neil for the second time that day. The cigarette lighter must have come in to play again as she re-emerged and the first torch was lit without further incident as another nymph released a dove into the air.

And so the relay started, the flame making its way to Athens where it will be handed over to the British runners. But the highlight of my day? We bumped into Seb Coe himself as we were leaving the stadium. All politics were, of course, forgotten and he was the hero who won gold for Britain.