Olympic report

1. SHOCK HORROR DRAMA: CAVENDISH DOESN'T WIN. SAYS: "I FOUGHT THE WORLD AND THE - WORLD WON"

In Saturday's Road Race, the British team (and everyone else) got caught out by an early break-away and despite their best efforts, failed to reel them in. Afterwards, a strange consensus seemed to shape itself: that somehow it was Britain "against the world". This was first peddled soon after the conclusion of the race by Hazel Irvine and re-iterated the following day by that doyen of radio journalism (not) Victoria Derbyshire. Even Mark himself bought into this idea. Well, I've got some news for these people: it's ALWAYS Britain against the world, and so it should be. It's always a case of one country against all the others. Why should any other country help Britain to win?

Mark said at least Australia could have given us a hand, but is he not aware that few things give an Ozzie mote pleasure than beating the Brits? I might have expected this from MC, who is not exactly the tightest chain in the Peloton, but the journalists? They should get their heads straight and realise that in EVERY race, it's country A against countries B to Z, and always has been.

GYMNASTICS JUDGES PLACE UNPRECEDENTED DEMANDS ON A NATION'S EMOTIONAL RESOURCES

Watching the British team secure a bronze medal in the team event was a wonderful moment, further enhanced when it seemed we seemed to be advanced to a silver when the Japanese guy stumbled as he dismounted the pommel horse. But then followed a steward's enquiry where after an agonising delay, they were awarded a silver and we were demoted to bronze. Goddness, how many emotional twists and turns a nation had to endure in those few minutes! I can't remember another sporting moment so laden with wildly conflicting emotions. Joy, then even more joy, followed by bitter disappointment; finally an acceptance that even bronze was actually a triumph to be savoured. What a night!

I have to ask this, however: how did it happen? Who cocked up, and why? I think we should be told. I've been through too much to simply put it all to one side. Someone needs to pay for putting an entire nation through (and I know this is a cliche, but surely justified on this occasion) one mother of an emotional rollercoaster.

TodayI feel just a little bit proud to be British

There are often times when I am ashamed to be a Brit: when we kow-towed to the Americans and backed them up in two pirating enterprises in Iraq, when I encounter the groundswell of racism that still exists here, when I see us creating a culture which protects and encourages the high-end brigandage that is modern banking practice.

But after witnessing the Opening ceremony last night I feel somehow renewed. Danny Boyle (and how long will we wait to see Sir Danny? not long I suspect)pulling off an astonishing piece of theatre which, unlike previous opening ceremonies I have seen, was devoid of schmaltz and painted a picture of our nation of which we can truly be proud. The set pieces, the music, the personalities, it all came together in a wonderful culmination of the best aspects of Britishness.

The only slightly awkward moment for me was St Paul of Beatle not quite carrying off "Hey Jude". But then the poor guy is 70 or something; maybe I should cut him some slack.

The high point? Doreen Lawrence being chosen as one of the Olympic flag bearers. Though as my wife pointed out, there can be no doubt she'd have swapped all that glory in a heartbeat to have had her son not be there on that fatal night in east London back in 1993.

Not a cloud in the sky all day

Is something you can rarely claim in Britain, but it was true today. The jet stream (cursed be thy name) having drifted towards northern Scotland in the last few days, the south has begun to enjoy the summer it has been denied thus far.

The radiance of the day is in keeping with the afterglow I feel from having seen Bradley Wiggins ride in triumph down the Champs Elysee on Sunday.

Andy Murray was trying to do something that hadn't been done for 76 years, but Bradley did something that has never been done, not in the entire history of Le Tour.
And let's not forget Chris Froome, Bradley's team mate, who finished second, sacrificing his own very good chance of winning for the greater good of his team. I know it was in his contract, but there was a moment when Froome had his measure on the Mt Tourmale climb, and could easily have forged ahead of him and won. And everybody knew it.

Is it a good omen for the Olympics? I have no doubt of it. Right now we have the cycling world by the throat, and a Games on home turf should seal us a clutch of gold medals on two wheels. Now track and field, the heart and soul of every Games, unfortunately that's another matter. There I fear we may only bring home our customary haul of silvers, bronzes and fourth places. But then, we always have one priceless moment. Which will it be this time? I'm looking forward to finding out, and with steadily growing excitement. It's coming, it's coming soon!

Sports coverage: where it's going wrong:

I speak of an insidious development that has crept up on us in recent years. The first time I remember this "innovation" was in the Athletics world championships which were held in Manchester a few years ago. At the beginning, and at the end, of each and every slow-motion replay the logo MANCHESTER was spread across the screen. After a few days the viewer would have seen the name writ across their screen a thousand times or more.

This June we were presented with a similar spectacle during the Euro 2012 football, when that coloured logo of the coloured blooms, growing out of a ball, of Poland and Ukraine flashed up at each end of every replay. Next we saw the tennis succumbing to a similar temptation as the logo of the All-England club filled the screen briefly before and after each replay (of which there were of course myriad)

Now I am watching the Open from Lytham, and here too the same practice has been installed, with the claret jug appearing almost every other second, not just book-ending the replays but between cuts of every kind. What's the chance of seeing "London 2012" adorning our screens a million times over the nest couple of weeks? A stone-cold certainty I would have said.

Doubtless this phenomenon has been inherited from America, the home of advertising and self-promotion, but here? Aren't we a bit more civilised than that? I fear the answer is no. Yet no one, to my knowledge at least, has ever asked the viewer whether he or she wants to be subjected to this form of (not so) subliminal product placement thousands and thousands of times. So here's the news: I don't, and I suspect I'm not alone. IT'S MADDENING AND I WANT IT TO GO AWAY! Is anyone listening out there? STOP IT!

Keep looking over your shoulder, Mr Assad

COMMENT

Disaster came worryingly close to the Assad cabal yesterday, when an extremely well informed suicide bomber knew exactly where a crisis cabinet meeting was being held in what should have been one of Syria's safest places, the Department of the Interior HQ. Yet somehow they got through and took out the defence minister and Assad's own brother-in-law.

There seems to be a growing consensus that the situation in Syria is gradually unravelling, and that it won't be too long before Russia and China tire of their "allies" and cut them loose. And while the moneyed middle classes of Syria may be quaking in their boots (and remember, many of these are Christians, who are among the biggest land and property owners in Syria), I suspect for millions of ordinary citizens, it can't come a day too soon...

Walkies

Yesterday my wife and I journeyed to the Welsh border county of Gwent to walk a 12 mile track following alternately the graceful curves of the river Usk and the more linear path of the Brecon and Monmouthshire canal. Although the rain held off through most of the walk, the wettest June in modern history rendered much of it damp, soggy or sometimes awash with groundwater. The guide we followed suggested there was a "small mud patch" about 2 miles into the walk, but it had now expanded into a large morass more reminiscent of a battlefield in Paschendael, though thankfully free of the rotting corpses of horses and men.

I had selected white clothing for the journey, which proved to be unwise as about half way through I slipped and fell into the mud, coating my entire right side with the stuff. Fortunately I was in an equable mood and laughed it off. My washing machine will be busy today, however.

How did I stand up under the conditions and physical effort? Not too badly, it turns out. My buttocks still feel laden with lactic acid, and my early-arthritic hips are still glowing with internal heat, but with any luck I shall feel fine tomorrow. I'm not sure if I'll be able to walk 10 miles at 80, as the marquis in "Brideshead Revisited" aspired to: I'll settle for 5. And if I ever get to 90, which I doubt, I'll be happy if I can get from the living room to the kitchen under my own steam. I've always said I want to hang around as long as I can still operate my remote control; when I lose that, you can have me.

I'm ready to talk about my pain

It is only now, 72 hours on from the devastating disappointment the nation suffered om the pristine lawns of SW19, I feel able to speak about events.

True, history was made that day, as a Brit contested the final for the first time in 74 years. But we all knew that wasn't enough; we wanted so desperately for him to take it one stage further and avenge the accumulated humiliation we have endured even longer- 76 years. It is not until then that I can die a little happier knowing we have had at least one winner in my lifetime.

My bro tex me after the game saying what a shame, etc. I tex back saying I feared that, having failed to exploit the highly advantageous sequence of events that acted in his favour, specifically not having to meet Nadal in the semi-final, where he would surely have lost, he may never have another chance as good as this. My bro encouragingly reminded me that he did indeed have several more chances.

Murray is 25. That means he's got 4 more shots at Wimbledon, and of course 4 more shots at all the other Grand Slam events too. Do I detect a ray of hope, even of optimism breaking through my slough of Despond? Can I perhaps discern a continuum, an arc of improvement, with Murray sailing on it, dare I believe, all the wsay to the ultimate prize?

He's been to semi-finals, even a couple of finals and now he's even been in a final on the hallowed turf. Lendl seems a good influence, presumably reminding Murray again and again of what is required to win: concentrate on positive thoughts and to drive out any negative ones. It's what all great champions have mastered: they know it's the only way to win. In other words he must acquire that harsh, deeply ingrained grit that brings a player through the great tournaments because they want it more than anyone else and won't give up until they get it.

4 more chances. 16 grand slam events, 17 if you count the upcoming US Open. Could he win there? I wouldn't put it past him. I still have faith in the lad: he's got so much talent, if he can build the iron in the soul I still think he could make me die a slightly happier old git.

RIAT dispatch

That's the Royal International Air Tattoo to you. Held at the US airbase at Fairford in Wiltshire, it is touted as the biggest airshow in the world, though I am not certain this is true. But it is big. Dozens of interesting planes were on show for the the 50-odd thousand visitors to gawp at, including the strange P22 Osprey, an American VTOL (vertical take off and landing) plane which rotates its whole wing to direct the thrust from its twin propellers, though there seems to be a design fault, in so far as the propellers are so long that it cannot land as an aircraft usually does, and MUST land vertically. So if the machanism for moving the wings jams in flight, it's fucked.

There were other iconic planes on display, including the B2 stealth bomber, a plane so strange and un-worldly looking it is easy to see how it stimulated hundreds of UFO reports while it was under secret testing, and a B52 bomber, that huge and terrifying weapon of war that carried the US's strategic nuclear force from the 50s, right through to the Millennium, in addition to dropping more ordnance on Vietnam than the US did on Germany in the whole of WW2.

A slight problem for me was that I had to get right up to things to see them properly because of my eyes, and anything in the sky was invisible until I found it with my compact bins. Never has a pair of field glasses come in more handy than on this day.

The two highlights? First, a Dutch pilot putting an F15 Eagle through its paces in amazing little demonstration of power and grace. At one point, the aircraft headed straight up; then it actually seemed to stop still in the air for a second, before curving slowly back down into a gentle dive. The second and possibly the greatest moment for me: the flypast of the only remaining Lancaster bomber, with its two escorts, a Spitfire and a Hurricane. The sight, and especially the sound of those piston engines throbbing through the damp air of the aerodrome, brought forth a powerful surge of emotion from deep within me, as I remembered the brave men who fought and died for their country in these war machines, and the terrible destruction wrought by their actions.

June book and film review

BOOK

THE BEAR AND THE DRAGON, by Tom Clancy. President Jack Ryan finds an improbable bedfellow when China, covetous of a huge oil and gold find in nearby Siberia, decides to invade Russia to plunder its new-found riches. But in a post cold war world, the two unlikely allies find their armies seriously depleted... I only read this one book in June, but give me a break. I've been quite busy finishing off my own book and it is 1140 pages long, dammit. Tom is strong on technical detail, and the plot fairly races along; indeed, the ;ast 50 pages winds up into a genuinely thrilling climax. But his characterisations are weak, even juvenile, which detracts from one's enjoyment of this potentially fine book. Even his great creation, Jack Ryan, the ex-CIA agent become president, is worryingly one-dimensional. But perhaps I shouldn't knock it. Clancy has sold millions of books and made millions more from his high-octane narratives. So he can certainly be said to be tapping into some sort of zeitgeist...

FILMS

XALA (1975)D- Ousmane Sembene (Senegal/France). While Senegal celebrates its independence from France, a government minister expropriates funds to buy a new wife. Then he finds himself under a curse, or "Xala", which renders him impotent. A highly watchable film which provides a fascinating insight into the frightening world of West African domestic and political life. Recommended.
JOHNY MAD DOG (2008) D- Jean-Stephane Sauvaine. (Liberia/France) Inspired and encouraged by an amoral commander, a platoon of boy-soldiers slash, burn and murder their way through a Liberia torn apart by civil war. A truly terrifying portrayal of the lives of children who should be playing soldiers, but find themselves doing it for real. No wonder they put Charles Taylor away for life for his promotion of this most terrible form of warfare.
IN A BETTER WORLD (2010)D- Susanne Bier (Denmark) A Danish doctor divides his time between his family and his work in an African refugee camp. Meanwhile, his son decides to wreak terrible vengeance on the children who have been tormenting him at school. A sensitively made and gripping film about divided loyalties and when to make a stand. Watch it.
BATTLEGROUND 1949) D- William Wellmann. In 1945, a detachment of the US 101st Airborne division finds itself cut off behind enemy lines during the Battle of the Bulge. Wellman had already established himself as one of Hollywood's most thoughtful directors with films like "The Ox-Bow Incident", which is believed by some to be one of the finest Westerns ever made, and in this film he continues to show the human side of great events in his uniquely authentic and affecting style. As war movies go, this was one of the best at the time, and even today stands the test of time superbly.
A CRY IN THE DARK (1988) D- Fred Shepisi. A deeply religious Australian family takes a camping holiday near Ayer's Rock, but in the dead of night a dingo creeps up and steals their baby. Or was she murdered? A highly authentic portrayal of one of Oz's most famous trials, and one that only received its final disposition a few weeks ago when a coroner ruled that Lindy Chamberlain (brilliantly played by Meryl Streep) did indeed tell the truth more than 30 years earlier. My take: the price you pay when the media don't like the way you come over. We've seen it before and we'll see it again.
MARRIED TO THE MOB (1988)D- Jonathan Demme. An attractive woman (Michelle Pfeiffer) is pursued by a gangland boss, while an FBI agent (Matthew Modine), tasked with bringing him down, also falls for her. Modine had a brief time in the sun with his strong performance in "Full Metal Jacket", but this film really marked his last spell in the big league. I'm not sure why, because he was really pretty good, but other faces came along whose faces fitted more, I guess. But like other of Demme's films of this era ("something Wild", "Silence of the Lambs") this is highly entertaining stuff.
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON (2010) D- Chris Sanders and Dean de Blois. Viking kids grow up in a World where dragons are a constant threat, and they are trained to kill them. Then one nerd makes friends with one of them and realises they ain't so evil after all... Superior animation from the Dreamworks stable, with excellent graphics and unusually good characterisation. Watch it with a kid as an excuse to see a rather good little effort.
X MEN: FIRST CLASS (2011) D- Matthew Vaughn. During the Kennedy administration, an evil genius uses his mutant super-powers to create the Cuban missiles crisis, hoping to plunge the world into nuclear megadeath. Prequels are all the rage these days (we're off to see "Prometheus" tomorrow, geddit?) and the X Men series are always fun. But what's with all these super-villains wanting to start WW3? It's the plot of countless movies, including several in the James Bond series, but it's never explained just why, and how they hope to profit from world-wide destruction. Just don't think about it too much I say, and sit back to enjoy this film's pace and ripping special effects.

I hate to say I told you so...

Last Thursday we experienced a fall of "yellow rain", dust from the plains of Spain and perhaps also from the Sahara Desert, part of a "Spanish Plume". This was an unusual draught of hot air from southern climes which, when mixed with our cooler martime airfloow caused some incredibly dramtic weather in several parts of the country: thunderstorms, flash-floods, golf ball sized hail and even a tornado.

More evidence, should any be needed, that our weather is changing; specifically that our smmers are becoming wetter and windier.

Yet again the need for some really comprehensive flood protection to be constructed in a range of vulnerable locations around Britain has been underlined.

It is the duty of a government to protect its citizens- so get off your asses and start doing it!