Ancaster's Scott Dickens has been saying all week at the pool here that he realizes "how much I love my job" and sometimes I know exactly how he feels.
Just witnessed Britain's first gold medal of these games and what dripping symbolism: in rowing, an ancient British tradition; at a course owned by Eton College, the one time male bastion and still "nursery of prime ministers" and by two women, signifying how times can actually change.
The pandemonium---a tumult of combined joy and am-I-really-witnessing-this disbelief---over the final 1000 metres of the 2000 metre race was indescribable.
Helen Glover and Heather Stanning led this thing from the get-go and, though tiring, still won big over New Zealand and Australia in a Commonwealth sweep with the crowd---including Will and Harry but not, apparently, Kate---leaping, dancing, cheering and hoping them all the way home. When they collapsed over the line in complete exhaustion, the entire stands looked like a Union-Jacked '90s rave.
There's always something emotionally fixing about being at a home nation win at the Olympics, any Olympics. In a very unsportswriter-like way, you're actually happy for the folks who were present either in person or via telly because you know how long they've waited, and how much they've paid, for their Games. As one perceptive British writer put it, nagging about the cost and getting caught up in the Games, are two very different things and you can do both. That was really apparent out here today.