Good evening.
Some people have no respect - there I was, trying to record a piece in our roof-top transmission garrat here in Beijing and all hell broke lose. It was like the Somme or 1666 and the Great Fire of London in the skies above me. And then the penny dropped: it was eight minutes past eight on the eighth day of the eighth month of the eighth year and the Olympics were underway. I must have been on London time... anyway, I recovered to capture , for you, some of the most extraordinary images I think I have seen other than when nations have been attempting to blast each other to oblivion. This was all in the name of One World, One Dream and we will paint a picture of it all for you tonight at 6. Hope you have your watches on the right time zone!
The mob from London 2012, recovering from their launch party last night, will certainly have been woken up from any late-night induced slumber into which they may have drifted - not only by the pyrotechnic blast but by the very images unfolding before them. Just four years to match or better THAT - quite a tall order. Harris has been grilling the man with the most challenging job over the next four years - the man who must design London's "Hello" to the Olympic World in 2012.
Our good friend from Los Angeles, Alan Abrahamson, is here - he knows more about the Olympics than anyone I know and I will be asking him to rate Beijing's "starter course" and asking him what he thinks London has to come up with to stay ahead of the game ... or Games, I suppose that should be!
I've been assessing London and the South East's runners and riders in the British contingent who may have a real prospect of having to declare precious metals when they get back to Customs at Heathrow.
Canada has a big team here and I hope they hang their heads in shame when we report on the treatment their immigration people metted out to a lovely couple from Wokingham, seeking a new life in the coldest part of the Commonwealth, only to learn their daughter's disability was an impediment to their dream. I'd have hoped for better from the land of Joni Mitchell - maybe the whole country should become a parking lot...
Dog racing is older than the modern Olympics and, for all I know, the old Olympics, too: not too hot on the ancient Greeks attitude to speedy canines. Anyway, we've the latest from Walthamstow on the campaign to save a fine example of a greyhound speedway with some folk whose livelihood depends on the traps continuing to flip up and the rabbits carrying on around that sandy dirt-track.
I am in a state of shock that Salma and the Big Boss have decided there is nothing worth doing in London this weekend and that they have dispensed with What Not to Miss - for tonight it is rested. Siraj will weep tears of sadness but it may be just punishment for her deeply troubling reaction to last night's sea-horse "fluids" mystery...
Weather you will need to know about so that we will share and London's papers, if there's time.
Faye, still stunning, is playing a blinder but has put on what I think are known as pedal-pushers (they are black): I fear she will be cross not to feature in my list of Brit medal hopefuls as I think she is off to the velodrome tomorrow.
I'll keep you informed if you join us at 6.
Alastair
