A few weeks ago we discovered that the Olympic Torch was going to pass right by our front door in Brighton. When I say right past, I mean we .would be able to lean out of our sitting room window and touch. Or at least get burnt by it
I exploded with excitement. Unreasonable as that may seem, it was the case. I don't know why, but it was just the best thing since sliced bread. The Cat's Mother was swept along as well, and in true Cat's Mother fashion, she had soon organised for the world to come down with us to see the Grail pass before us.
From that point onwards it went down, down, down. First Mrs Muffin couldn't make it, then after a while Mr Muffin and the Muffin offspring couldn't make it, and then UP felt unable to travel to see it. I in the meantime, had foregone the pleasure of paying some £25 each on e-bay for seven 'limited edition' Brighton and Hove Torch relay badges by buying them directly from the 2012 shop for just £7. Still The Cat's Mother and I could wear one each and give the others to our neighbours.
That was until Friday night when The Cat's Mother went down with some sickening illness. She was in a very poorly state through Saturday and Sunday and into Monday. She suggested I travelled by myself, but in a moment of solidarity I declined.
Not to worry, we could watch it live on the BBC stream.
And so we did as it travelled across Sussex in the wind and the rain. Very moving it was too. And the excitement grew and grew as it approached our beloved home. Until just around the corner, the live feed went dead. The picture showing vast crowds clapping and cheering and waving was as black as a black thing can be. There was no more live stream the BBC nearly apologised. The torch passed by our home and I'll never know who was there and what it looked like.
I was unreasonably upset and disappointed. The Cat's Mother was distraught. I woke up this morning with a feeling of injustice and unfairness.
How could that be? Who knows, but there must be a reason. I wish I knew what it was.
