I have balked from using the O word. I don’t want to get in trouble.

The expression “Olympic legacy” has been bandied around for, it seems, the last few years. Initially I thought it meant just the physical legacy – the buildings and infrastructure in London and other areas of the country that would outlast the few weeks of sporting endeavour. But I have learned, as the Games have slowly overtaken all televisions in the country, that it means so much more than that.

I have a bit of a confession to make, before I continue. I have never been a massive fan of the Olympics before. It has never grabbed my attention or fired my enthusiasm. But I cannot stop watching this one. The unstoppable behemoth that is the Olympic Games has steamrolled into my life and is refusing to budge. And I’m loving it.

I’d always considered myself a sports fan; but now I’m not sure if that has been true. Up until this year. I have immersed myself in the show and I can’t get enough; late nights to sit and watch “just one more event” are now the norm in my house. I have watched sports I never would have dreamed of watching; tennis (I’m watching Murray in the final as I type this), canoe slalom, rowing, athletics, hockey, volleyball (yes, beach volleyball – the game of kings). And it is fantastic to see Team GB doing so well.

The tag line for these games has been “Inspire a Generation” and I firmly believe that they will fullfill that legacy and more.

I’m even a little bit proud of how our generally cynical population has been so welcoming, friendly and enthuisiastic. Everywhere I look I see outbreaks of national pride. It’s infectious, it would seem.

But for all this my favourite story so far has been one removed from the sport itself. A beautiful two minute story that appeared on one of the early morning shows. Or possibly it was a late night one; I can’t quite remember.

A woman in London had been homeless, jobless and without hope for two decades; living under a bridge in the city. She had fallen on hard times and had, it seemed, nowhere to turn.

Then the Olympics steamed into town and she was moved on from where she had taken shelter, as many homeless people have been I’m sure. She was offered a bed in a homeless shelter which she took, and she used this small but significant step to help her get a job. As she had a permanent address in the form of the shelter she applied for a job serving food somewhere within the maze of Olympic venues and she got this job. So the Olympics may serve to help and inspire more people in more ways than was intended.

I know this may not sound like much as a one off story, but it touched me. Hopefully this will be the true legacy of London 2012, but who knows?

Unfortunately I haven’t been able to find a link to the story, I’m sure it must exist somewhere. I think and hope the few facts I have put in are true, they are certainly true to my memory.

Anyway, I’m off to watch more sport; inspiring me to sit on my bum probably wasn’t the idea, but never mind.

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