I had dinner with vivwiley last night, and she said she had a habit of being in places when things happen. So clearly it's All Her Fault.
I was so certain that Paris was going to get the games in 2012 that I almost didn't watch the announcement, only relenting at the last minute and heading downstairs to switch on the BBC (one always watches the important stuff on the Beeb *g*)
In that silent moment of verging towards a decision, of leaning into the future, I was waiting for it to be Paris, my lips forming a disappointed 'P' … then your man said London and I jumped up and down and yelled "holy shit!"
So exciting. It's almost worth biking into Stratford and dancing under the Giant Woman O' Doom.
This is going to be so fabulous. Not only do we get an Olympic party in 2012, we get SIX YEARS to have a good whinge about how it's completely knackering the transport, it's a complete waste of money, how we're paying through the nose via our taxes and about how Britain couldn't organise a piss-up in a brewery.
Two fabulous British obsessions (sport and pro-am Grumpiness and Moaning) in one all-singing, all-dancing package.
And we shat on Jacques Chirac. Laaaa!
Dude. You can walk to the stadium from my house. They're going to regenerate this whole area. *dances some more*
So. 2012. All back to mine, eh?
ETA: My mum just rang me and we went "eeeee!" down the phone at each other.
ETA2: The reason why we're glad we shat on Jacques Chirac, aside from him losing the EU referendum vote and then diverting attention to the British EU rebate while refusing to consider the reform of the common agricultural policy:
The French president declared that the only thing the British have ever done for European agriculture is mad cow disease, the French daily Libération reported.
Mr Chirac then reportedly said: "You can't trust people who cook as badly as that. After Finland, it's the country with the worst food."
The Guardian, Tuesday
ETA3: I break out my childish glee icon for the first time