London's Olympic Fever: How We Caught It

Embattled media mogul Rupert Murdoch recently tweeted that an economic hangover is coming and we Londoners should enjoy things while they last. Like most advice from discredited billionaires, his comments were ignored with typical British apathy. After all who thinks about the hangover at the height of party? Right now London has invited the world to it's living room, the weather Gods are feeling generous and the nation is getting used to watching some folks who rock lycra so well it surely isn't legal.The build up for the Olympics has been a little like a wedding invite you received with ambivalent. But rather than irritating emails from obsessive bridesmaids to 'please remember it’s a cash bar,' the London Mayor has been booming through every Tube station the warnings of an impending travel meltdown.Then as the fireworks cracked over the Olympic Opening Ceremony the pulse of the city began to race like a 100m finalist’s heartbeat. Even that negative friend who would complain when they’ve won the lottery has an unfamiliar smile on their face. They caught it, it has descended, Olympic fever.The Austerity OlympicsIt’s no coincidence that London last hosted the Olympic Games during the lean recovery years after the Second World War. No fancy sports drinks then, just a post-war rationing orange segment and a pat on the back from spectators in £3 seats. In 1948 the BBC paid £1,000 for full broadcasting rights and this year? The same amount seems to have been spent on tanning booths for the company's presenters, most of whom are channelling a frightening gold medal glow. But I digress. Internet bandwith collapses during work meetings – or was that just me? – as us Londoners click "update" on the medals table from our phones and laptops. We throw up fist pumps at our desks, mumbling how 'psyched' we are to finishing our expenses form but really we're rooting on an Olympian. The United Kingdom is in pride overdrive and suddenly a patriotic Facebook update that doesn't seem abnormal. The formerly torturous TV commercials for the official foot cream/nasal spray/lawnmower brand of the Olympic games now makes us so emotional, we're weeping into our Gabby Douglas cereal.We have been mesmerised by the cyclists blazing round the velodrome, we googled confusing Judo terminology and were deeply inspired to develop six packs that can grate cheese ... but then we had another beer. We google imaged the Fiji flag bearer – mental note: re-watch Opening Ceremony when the boyfriend's out – and celebrated in particular our British women who have been swimming, biking and boxing their way through the sport glass ceiling.Associated benefits In the early days, Olympics tickets were not gold dust per se, but they weren’t widely available either. There were fears that, thanks to our lovely wet weather, the open-air Olympic arena would become a second swimming venue and people would be forced to trade wads of cash for waterproof ponchos in back alleys. Much of the buzz of winning the opportunity to host the 2012 Summer Games came from the ability to throw up a finger at Paris, something Londoners embrace with a dutiful commitment.Still for London natives who won't go to the Games, making those people feel included in the madness is key and not an easy task. To foster that feeling of togetherness, the Olympic events are dispersed across the city and applause has become the new soundtrack to our streets. Suddenly a ride on that dust-caked bike sounds like a brilliant idea and the tourists who clog the escalators are not pests but visitors to a city of which we are incredibly and justifiably proud. An unofficial Olympic twitter account which "scrapes" the ticketing website to look for available places has grown from an IT programmer home project with 70 followers to amassing 40,000 in three days as people scramble for tickets.Even the Union Jack is having a comeback. A few British flags were limply waved out of car windows two weeks ago and now it seems sacreligious not to rock the red, white and blue. The patriotic tsunami that began with the 2011 Royal wedding, the Jubilee and now the greatest show on earth has given way to frantic flag waving and soaring face paint sales. Still, we British love confidence but detest arrogance, and with the two such close sides of one coin we tend to err on the side of caution and keep our patriotism in check. For example, while one South African swimmer's dad has become famous for going ballistic on the BBC over his son's win, a Brtish cyclist's father quipped after his son's win that he'd spent the night before laying on his patio to calm his nerves. Even royalty has had an impact on out country's wins, every event Kate Middleton attended has had spectacular results.USA Today has in the past called London "a dour city, a place of weepy grey skies and chilly demeanour" – kind of harsh, that's not the city I know – but even they concede we've been transformed into an "enclave of smiling Olympic volunteers, efficient transit systems and joyful crowds." Even our newspapers are reporting unbelieavable sporting achievement by locals like Moh Farah instead of where Kim Kardashian gets her hair extensions.Even taxes are seen as appropriate these days. The Queen costs every UK taxpayer nearly £1 a year, and for many non-Royal fans that's a second pint at the bar on Friday night! But as the queen parachuted into the Olympic stadium during the Opening Ceremony next to a suited James Bond, some in the crowd thought, 'Your Majesty, you and this experience is worth every damn penny.'