Adieu to the Games

Shortly, the greatest show on Earth will be over for another four years.  Honestly I’ll be gutted to see it go and for London to return to its usual, grumpy self.  Even from this distance, I’ve been thrilled by the performances of all our athletes, sharing the incredible highs and agonizing lows from the comfort of the nest and I’m now horrified that all we’ve got to look forward to is Strictly Come Dancing.  Worse, in the frenetic build-up to tomorrow night, I’m a little envious of Grimy, whose dogged determination, dancing skills and staying power have bumped him from understudy to cast member of the Closing Ceremony.  Soddit … I’m actually jealous that I can’t be there.

Reflecting back over the last few weeks, I’ve no idea what the likes of Gary Lineker, Jake Humphries and Sue Barker are going to do with themselves but I’ll be buying a bike and pedaling while the sun’s out.  You already know I’ve no natural talent where cycling’s concerned but the Sky-ride looks fun if only I could find the right wheels.  Since they were first invented, I’ve wanted one of those Moulton-style, low slung numbers but it seems I’ve underestimated their trend value because they’re a monumental seventeen hundred quid.  Don’t think the car’s worth that much these days …

So, in the spirit of the Olympics I’m trying to add an element of fitness to the tedium of the working day as the Retail Cathedral is pretty much empty during holiday time.  Post re-fit, we no longer have zig-zagged tables and gondolas in strategic positions so opportunities to Zumba behind the fixtures are limited.  In their place stands a long, white set of tables which are so high maintenance, they need constant cleaning with linen spray to obliterate finger marks from the surface - they smell great though.  One regular customer [who just happens to be pathologist] took one look at the pendulum lights and quipped,
“Perfect conditions for a splenectomy Raven – just whip off the gifts and pass me a scalpel.” 
Being more snow goose than raven in stature, his booming voice reached a woman browsing through the soaps.  Visibly blanching, she grabbed her chicks and ushered them to the door.  No GSOH obviously.

Anyway, we’ve instigated a four-by-four-metre relay race around the central table using a cleanser bottle as a baton, and the first team to make a full circuit without being stopped by the management wins a prize.  It’s quite fun in a sado-masochistic way.  And there are bike wheels present on the new display trolley - as a sporting challenge, I believe it could be involved in a ten-metre-push, if only we could actually push it.  You see, there’s a cunning third leg at the back which means forward or backward movement is virtually impossible without a four-raven team to lift it.  As the bloke from Menkind observed yesterday,

“Can I have those when you’re fed up with them.  They’re just the right size for my fold-up bike.”  Damn him … I bet he’s got a Moulton.  So let’s forget the wheels, they’re purely cosmetic just like the half sized half of a child’s cast iron bath.  Please don’t ask me to explain, just nip along to the RC and look in the window at the forlorn thing, all by itself, draped in union flags … and bags.  Frankly, it could be used in a clean-and-jerk record attempt as it weights as much as it cost and just this once, I’m not telling because I’m embarrassed.  Seriously, you could buy two Moulton bikes … instead, there a chunk of scrap waiting to be collected.

And look out for the stick-on passport stamps in the window - the Chinese one is back to front, and the French one is upside down and backwards.  "Bienvenue" it ain't.

Tip of the Blog:  Wave when you see Grimy – he’s the Edwardian raven with a beard sporting a big grin.  Best not see his Facebook page, the ponytail's all wrong on so many levels.

Raven