Olympic balls and the worst day of my husband's life

Many moons ago, my husband and I entered the ballot for tickets to the 2012 London Olympic Games (yes, LOCOG I'm daring to use this phrase but you can't throw me in jail because it's part of an editorial article. I have read your branding guidelines - ha!).  Lo and behold, we were lucky enough to acquire a handful.

I thought at the time that it would be wonderful to take the children and involve them in this very special event taking place in our country which would only happen once in our lifetime.  So, my husband dutifully booked tickets for the children to one or two events.  Our tickets came and, looking amongst them, it turned out we were to have a full day of Olympic action on 31st July (yep, that's the Tuesday just gone).

As Tuesday crept ever closer, my husband became increasingly worried about taking Dexter to see the events.  He was sure it would be a disaster with an easily bored one-year-old who would undoubtedly want to toddle off and explore.  My husband even had sleepless nights over it.  I eventually relented and we called in reinforcements (my sister-in-law) to babysit.

Tuesday came and we were excited.  The agenda for the day?  Indoor volleyball in the morning followed by an afternoon at Wimbledon to watch some tennis.  The weather forecast?  The coldest day of the week and rain!

We got to the train station in good time and waited for our train.  And waited.  And waited. 

Finally it came, my husband stressing all the while that we were going to be late.  We got onto the carriage and claimed our seats.  Four stops later I heard,

"Mum, I need a wee!"

Oh dear.

Thankfully the next platform had some very easily accessible public toilets so that little visit was quickly taken care of.  The train was still at the station when we returned to the platform, there being a problem with its doors, but it pulled away fairly soon afterwards, commuters filling the carriages.  

The platform was beginning to get busier too and my husband was moaning about no longer getting a seat on the train, his short fuse perilously close to blowing.  He decided that the only thing to do was to get the next train going back to our original station, jump out at a previous stop and then catch another train, this time going in the right direction, so that we could all sit for the 1 hour plus journey that it would take to get to Earl's Court.  So, that's what we did.  My husband wasn't happy but Sophia was having a ball!

I won't bore you with the details of the day, needless to say we watched a bit of volleyball; Sophia got bored quite quickly; the husband got stressed; I spent most of the morning running around Earl's Court with Sophia to keep her busy; my husband stressed about it; we went to Wimbledon; it rained; my husband stressed; the rain cleared up a little; it rained again; it stopped just long enough so that we actually got to watch some tennis; my husband stressed when Sophia made a few noises during a tennis match and worried that we were about to be kicked out; we came home.

Overall verdict?  Sophia and I generally had a blast.  We may not have seen much action but we were doing something new and can say we were there...after all, it's the taking part that counts, right?  My husband on the other hand?  Worst day of his life apparently.  Grumpy sod!