UNTIL Monday, the only feeling I had about London 2012 was an Olympic-sized huff.
I felt bullied and harassed by all the ridiculous adverts on the telly every five minutes.
Everyone and his pet budgie cashed in and my brain started to seeth and throb with anger as I tried to rationalise the connection between washing powder and sporting excellence: or burgers and sporting excellence: or phones and sporting excellence.
I tried applying the ‘six degrees of separation’ theory but no joy. To the best of my knowledge people are good at running or trampolining or whatever because they practice really hard, but what do I know?
The one oasis was the clip promoting the Paralympics, purely due to its use of that Public Enemy song.
I was so narked by the intrusion that I refused to watch the opening ceremony and put Batman Begins on instead.
But as all the comments flooded onto my Facebook page about Daniel Craig, and the Queen and Mary Poppins, my curiosity started to twingle a bit.
And when the actual games began I demonstrated my incredible fickleness and was immediately won round.
Possibly because this is The British Way – it does seem to be a national trait that we are incapable of pre-event excitement.
But more likely because of the rather tremendous Olympic celebration I was invited to on Monday.
It was a gathering of fellow horsey ladies who are the last word in parties and had gathered their expertise to mark the cross-country day of the equestrian competition.
Mini sausage rolls, chicken skewers, cheesy puffs, bread sticks, dips, three types of cakes, strawberries, raspberries, jugs of Pimms, chicken stew, crusty bread and new potatoes were laid on.
All of this was accompanied by Union Jack plates, cups, flags and pom poms and an enthusiastic rendition of The Dam Busters theme tune.
There was a very minor incident when Fizzy the dog ate my chicken skewer and a later incident where I nearly ODd on Key Lime pie, but after that all was peace and harmony.
Until a British team member left the starting box at which point we put down our plates and raised our pom poms to cheer them over each fence. It was pretty blimmin cool watching all the horse and rider combos leaping like stags over fences I wouldn’t climb with a harness on.
The neddies were brave and beautiful and the British lot did us proud – no falls, no refusals, no run outs, just a few teeny insignificant time penalties.
We spent the rest of the time making vaguely unsporting comments against the competition like “Now would be a good time to fall off” and “Booooo!!! Hisss!!!” but apart from that we were the model of decorum.
By the end of the day we were in line for team silver, just a whisker behind the German team.
The next day I was back at work but kept up with the showjumping via Twitter to see Tina Cook and Miners Frolic clinch the silver medal for GB.
A fantastic achievement that makes up for all the tedious adverts in a second.