First off, I probably ought to apologise for being missing in action for the last couple of weeks. I’ve been hit with some health issues recently and dealing with that is my main priority, not to mention there’s been a big shift in the way things are at work and frankly, blogging has just fallen so far down the priority list there was a moment there where I wasn’t sure whether I was going to come back at all. But, well, despite the bread and butter of Do Not Refreeze being vapid writings about makeup it is also a place to immortalise things I want to remember and so, here I am.
Now, you probably already know that Colin and I moved to the Olympic Village at the start of the year. What you probably don’t know is that we’re more or less nocturnal on the weekends. At about 3am on Saturday night (Sunday morning, I suppose) we were hanging out on the balcony and marvelling at how warm, still and balmy the air was outside.
“We should go for a walk.”
“I don’t know, just a wander?”
“I need a destination, I can’t walk aimlessly like you. Asda’s 24 hours, isn’t it?”
“No, it closes at 10 on Saturdays..”
“Bugger. How about McDonald’s on Bow Flyover?”
“You’re on, but you’re buying.”
10 minutes later we were kitted out in the dead-of-night hiking uniform of tracksuit bottoms and old hoodies and heading back towards our old digs in Bow. We kept to the main road, and after 2 miles were thoroughly annoyed to find McDonald’s closed over the next few days for maintenance. Crap! Back home then, I suppose.
We took the back roads this time, which is definitely the longer route but free of the inevitable drunks stumbling off night buses that we’d encountered on the main road. As we approached the Aquatics Centre, dawn was just beginning to break and we stood looking over the Olympic Park, bathed in the glow of the sun’s first rays and droplets of morning dew. The birds had started their sunrise song, and rather than heading straight home we decided to take the opportunity, while there was not a single soul around, to have the Olympic Park all to ourselves.
It’s funny, neither Colin or I are morning people by any stretch of the imagination and would rather stick forks in our eyes than even entertain the idea of actually getting up to go for a walk at 4.30am. But hey, technically it was still Saturday night since we hadn’t been to bed yet and apparently, it seems that 4.30am is when we’re in our absolute element. I don’t remember the last time we had so much fun, just pure unadulterated joy. Swings and slides, rock climbing walls, sandpits, myriad plants and flowers and miles upon miles of 2012 wonderment.
Full of amazement and appreciation for our firm belief that we live in the best place ever, we eventually hobbled in the front door at 7am and fell straight into bed. Sore feet, but very contented souls.