The Thamensian’s Take: Winter Olympics inspired me to start my own Thame Games

The Thamensian
The Thamensian

I am sitting on a sofa in my pyjamas.

Why there is a sofa in my pyjamas is anyone’s guess. I’m just hoping it’s not a recliner.

It is Sunday morning and I’ve whizzed through Match of the Day already, skipping the pundits and experts because they bore me senseless.

I press stop and the screen changes to a snow gilded alpine slope where a dizzy Austrian girl is trying to climb back up a hill because she has started a bit early.

It’s like The Sound of Music stuck in reverse.

I half watch as a variety of attractive young girls appear in unsuitable puffer coats and lycra and proceed to fly down the mountain on snowboards.

They rise on to rails then flip and twirl as they soar from three progressively higher jumps. It is fascinating.

The commentators laugh, joke and interact and behave entirely inappropriately.

It’s like Danny Dyer taking over Test Match Special.

Then OUR girl comes on. “Go on The Jones” screams the breathless commentator as Jenny Jones gathers speed.

By now I am on the edge of my seat, angled like Eddie the Eagle Edwards.

“Don’t fall” I shout to Jenny, a woman I had never heard of until two minutes ago, doing a sport I have never seen before.

Whoooosh flip, slide, glide whoosh goes the former chalet girl (don’t know what one of those is either but I want one).

She is leading. And for the next half hour I am gripped as assorted Nordic beauties fail to beat her score.

Apparently sliding on your bum down the slope is not good, which rules me out of the next Games. When a Scandinavian girl puts a hand on the snow Jenny is confirmed in bronze medal position and when her mum comes to celebrate with her I am crying my eyes out along with the rest of the nation.

Sport is BRILLIANT. It brings up emotions, stirs your soul and makes you punch the air while tears flow. I haven’t cried this much since Toy Story 3.

I am inspired by the tale of Jenny Jones and for the rest of the day I compete in my own imaginary Winter Olympics.

I win bronze in the Thame to Chinnor Giant Slalom – I lose vital seconds by clipping the largest pothole. I achieve a podium finish in the shopping trolley ice dance, helped by half the other competitors trying to steer while holding a stupid cup of coffee. (“But it’s FREE”). Sadly I am disqualified from the one-man bobsleigh when Alan makes me get out of his dustcart. Oh how we laugh.

Kids of Thame - rise from your sofas, get inspired and go do something brilliant.

If not, it’s a slippery slope…