After all the hype, the Olympics are here.

Yippee! Yes, sorry tough for all you sports haters, but the Olympics have arrived. And if you hate the whole thing, well tough. Its your own money you are wasting by not embracing it. Its coming out of your taxes, so you might as well enjoy it.

Like it seems most of the country I tuned into the Opening Ceremony hoping it would be something good. And it certainly was. What I loved was just how clever it all was, The James Bond bit, the Rowan Atkinson slot, the cauldron have all been much remarked upon, but the transformation of rural idyll to industrial revolution was just so clever, and so ambitious. The satanic mills shooting up, the fields being rolled away. And seeing the Olympic rings being "forged" in the furnace and then hoisted up and showering fireworks. (Pics below of course nicked off the internet!)

And of course I was going to like the whizz through the last 40 years of popular music. And the Arctic Monkeys appearing. The NHS slot was a bit PC and slightly shovelled in (yeah ok to like the NHS but healthcare isn't really such a unique thing - most of the rest of Europe manages to look after its sick and would just take it for granted. Should the Post Office or the Inland Revenue appear next time we do one of these?). I am not sure what the rest of the world would have made of it as it was very British. But like everyone else, I have to hand it to Danny Boyle. A creative masterstroke. I even loved the parade of athletes (as I always do). I only actually got bored by the set pieces at the end - the speeches, the passing the torch to the young athletes only for them to do another run round, and most cringe worthy of all, the carrying of the flag by worthies. It became a tedious bit of name-dropping - how many hangers on could get into the act, and have a bit of glory reflected upon them.

 But if I was looking for a little bit of a controversial comment, I felt the much vaunted passing on to the next generation as symbolised by the torch lighting didn't reflect the reality of the ceremony in a few particular ways. One was having Muhammad Ali as part of the ceremony. He is clearly well out of it, a poor shambling wreck of a man now - he had to be manhandled about. Which strikes me as pretty undignified.

Secondly, can we please stop wheeling out Paul McCartney at every major do? And finally the ceremony did make me think that maybe its time for the Queen to pass on the baton. For the first time seeing her there she did look like what she is, a very elderly lady.

But so much for the opening. Saturday was my first day of being able to watch everything on the BBC, but I found being able to watch everything at the touch of a button just a little overwhelming as I flicked between cycling, women's basketball, beach volleyball, swimming, boxing, etc. The cycling road race was the most difficult to watch - the British interest being outweighed by the staggering dullness of following it. Hours of basically just watching traffic.

And Sunday was my first day of actually attending an event - the tennis at Wimbledon. Now to say I feel hard done by would be an understatement. I had excellent seats. It was a lovely morning. If you haven't been to Wimbledon, well it looks like this.

 Here is Henman Hill, ie the big screen for those without centre court tickets.

It was easy to get through security. And we had the chance to go past the practice courts, allowing us to get a few photos of the stars, Murray, Federer and the British girls Watson and Robson who had just sneaked into the draw.

The order of play included Djokevic followed by Venus Williams. So what went wrong? The weather of course. The forecast of showers in no way reflected the reality. Thunder and lightning and a really long persistent bout of rain through the afternoon. We got just under an hour's play, and very intriguing play too with Djokevic looking the better player but not managing to overcome the dogged Italian Fabio Fognini, before the rain came on during a lengthy tie-break.

The umpire frankly called it wrong by letting the tie-break continue, as all that happened was rain turned into a torrent and they couldn't complete the tie break anyway, but not before giving the court a good dousing. When the rain stopped and the sun reappeared, rather than dashing to get the game going again they dawdled to an official restart time and didn't get the covers off to allow the strong (if temporary) sunshine to dry the court. And no sooner had they got the court all set up, but the rain came again. And stayed until about half-past six. This allowed time for Djokevic to lose the tie-break but go on to win the last two sets quite comfortably, with both players slipping around on the court.

Beautiful blue sky as the sun went down, but too late, and the umpire decided that the court was too damp to be worth starting the second match. So frustrating that the only bad weather was the exact spell in the afternoon over which we could have been watching tennis. So Saturday was perfect, Monday should be fine, Sunday morning was bright and Sunday evening was peerless. Only the bloody bit for which I had tickets was awful!

So, by rights I should be irritable and looking for a cat to kick to a new workd record distance. But I am not. Not just because of my wonderful temperament. But (almost entirely) because my boss's son had taken up my spare ticket. And so rather several hours on my own I spent it happily chatting with this engaging young man. Obviously tinged with envy at him being two years into a degree at Durham rather than me celebrating getting to 50. But to my surprise we found plenty to talk about. Which was pretty necessary as there wasn't a lot to see! So thanks Oliver. A lot.

The Sunshine Boys

Back to the theatre tonight, at least in part enticed by being able to purchase good seats in the stalls for £20. From which one might deduce that the Sunshine Boys was struggling at the Box Office. Seemed pretty full to us though.

Its had slightly mixed reviews, but I would certainly say I had my money's worth. Danny De Vito was a perhaps slightly surprising addition to the long list of US actors coming across the Pond to have a run in the West End. Surprising as I didn't really have him down as a stage actor, and also I hadn't heard anything of him for years. But he was very good as a curmudgeonly old vaudeville performer refusing to retire gracefully. And to be fair, he was also a bit more of a natural choice for a Jewish New York comedian than Richard Griffiths. Griffiths is of course a fine actor, but unfortunately one's first impression when he comes on stage now is just how huge he is. We aren't just talking fat, we are talking inflated.

Its certainly an entertaining enough play with a lot of good lines, but at the end of it one doesn't feel that it was wonderful. But good enough. So I might manage a warm recommendation maybe, but not a must see.

Dr Freedland's Retirement Lunch, Truckfest Day Two and Sunday lunch by the River

I suspect (no, am certain) I was the only person at Truckfest who had a retirement lunch at an Oxford College to squeeze into the weekend. My old law professor was retiring at the age of 67 and I returned to St John's for his retirement lunch - champagne reception in Canterbury Quad followed by 3-course lunch in Hall. All very civilised, and great to catch up with some of my old friends from years gone by, many of whom I hadn't seen in 25 years. Pretty prestigious guest list. I counted one knight of the realm, one MP, one CBE, one CGM and 3 QCs.

Given the invite said "Smart Summer Wear", it was fitting that we got the first day of summer. So I strolled along the Oxord streets in my "Death in Venice" outfit, fought my way past the tourist hordes in Carfax and made my way into college, bumping into a couple of students from my year on the way (one of them a QC).

Lunch was very agreeable and then we went onto the speeches of which there was one more than I had bargained for. Long lists of anecdotes as one would expect at these affairs, with standing ovations and all quite emotional in a Goodbye Mr Chips sort of way. Best anecdote/joke was the tutor who said he never minded his students looking at their watches during tutorials; he only objected when they started to shake them to check they hadn't stopped.

Then back, rather later than I had expected, to Truck. Back to the reviews I am afraid.

65Daysofstatic

Great name. According to the programme, industrial math rock (whatever that is). Liked them, until I realised that the bombastic intro was actually all there was. Their music never gets anywhere. So we did, and wandered off to the second stage.

 Lucy Rose

Nice enough girl, but another sweet singer songwriter strumming her acoustic guitar. Almost a clone of Nina Nesbitt who was on the Paul Simon bill last Sunday. Enough said.

The Low Anthem
So this lot were the third from top on the main stage. An American band. I did like them a lot. Nice lead singer with a strong voice, the music was slowish but with a slightly repressed power to it.

And quirky they certainly were. How often do you see a guy playing a saw. Acoustic, not electric.

 And here, the lead singer is "playing" two mobile phones. Actually whistling into one, which has rung the other, to get a sort of echo back.

British Sea Power

Now onto a name act. An old school guitar rock band. Lots of noise. Limited vocal range, a bit samey maybe, but overall a good experience to my ears.

The Temper Trap

The night was topped off by the Temper Trap. As this was the second time I had seen them in 10 days, you may deduce I love this outfit. Not sure I can say more about them than I did when seeing them at Somerset House, other than blissfully this was a proper summer evening and not dodging showers, umbrellas and hypothermia.

Great set, soaring vocals and this time I was right at the front. I suppose the thing I would say for anyone who has only heard them on disc or radio is they are much more like a rock band live, not middle of the road at all, an impression their records might give. Anyway, a great finish.

 And then on Sunday, a glorious sunny Sunday morning, we all went out for a walk down the Thames to Iffley lock, and had a pub lunch. Can't really imagine a more agreeable way to have Sunday lunch. Couple of pints of real cider, a ploughman's, lovely company, conversation flowing easily, and two really adorable kids who never really complain about anything, even how long the food took to arrive although they were clearly hungry.

 And there can be no more perfect English scene than this, down by the river, geese, ducks and swans, a pretty lock-keeper's cottage, a rowing eight on the water. Probably as good a description of what one would like to think England is all about. And SUN!