How We Converted the Olympic Park to The Kentishtowner

With Olympic ticketing almost as central to the national dialogue as the weather this summer, we thought it only right for the Kentishtowner to pay a much overdue visit – and spread the word about our humble tome to the swathes of high-spirited attendees.

In an evening strangely reminiscent of our bizarre sojourn at London Pleasure Gardens, where we went to a festival and didn’t hear any music, last night we visited the Olympics but didn’t see any sport.

This was however part of the deal. Our rare ticket allowed us only to soak up some atmosphere and marvel at the scale of the place, the slickness of the operation, the regular roar of thousands in the huge arenas all around us.

And, of course, use our powers of persuasion to entice a random selection of folk to pose with our lovely postcards. (Yes, we did in fact see lots of sport, just on the big screen provided by BA, complete with razor-sharp uniformed air crew and mobbed medal winners appearing up on stage, plus as much noise and frenzied flag waving as was emanating from the hockey stadium just over the way. Hooray.)

It didn’t feel much like being in London, with the acres of space, the excellent crowd flow to the trains (home on the Overground to KT in 30 mins without a single snarl up) and the ultra-cheery officials. And people responded with enthusiasm at the prospect of more brand endorsement, when we asked them to be photographed clutching our delectable limited edition cards*.

Funniest encounter? Sidling up to a police horse and encouraging a little nibble here, a nibble there. And as for the wider public’s knowledge of where Kentish Town actually is? Surprisingly high. Bullseye.

Words & Pics: Tom Kihl

*Joke, Olympics Brand Enforcers!