At the Olympic Park people in purple and red polo-shirts with matching baseball caps are being helpful in directing the crowds. Some sit on umpire chairs with loudspeakers, 'Welcome to London, people', they announce, 'Bear left for Bridge A and right for Bridge B. We hope you have a fantastic time'. There are high-tech looking stadiums on either side of us and a sense of anticipation in the air.
Two of us have tickets in Bridge A and two of us in Bridge B. We ask a grounded member of the purple and green team whether that means we have to separate on our way in. 'I don't know I'm just a pleb like you', he says despite his outfit suggesting otherwise. 'I say just all go through together and if you have any problems just say Ken told you it'd be fine'. He indicates the name-badge that hangs round his neck.
I use the opportunity to ask his other name. 'Think Benjamin', he says and gives me an answer. I ask why his parents chose it. 'Well, I was very young when I was born so I didn't think to ask', he replies. He tells me he is from Birmingham by way of Zimbabwe, 'Part Zulu', he says. We wish each other a happy Olympics.
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