Are you enjoying the Sochi games?

I know there's been a lot of controversy over these Winter Olympics in Russia, and I understand how many people feel they want to boycott the games. I totally abhor Putin's politics and can only image what horrors people have to endure merely because of their sexual orientation, or because they want to have the (basic!) right to free speech.

But as a Finn, I am completely hooked on winter sports. I don't believe that by watching the games I approve of Putin, or condone his actions.

I love skiing of all sorts, but get especially excited about ice-hockey. As a child, growing up in Tampere, known in Finland for its strong tradition in the sport, I went to matches regularly and used to be a passionate Ilves supporter. In winter, I'd wear my Ilves woolly hat and scarf with pride.

Ice-hockey has even infiltrated my fiction. In my story of immigration and family drama, Coffee and Vodka, Pappa takes Eeva to see a Nordic derby match between Finland and Sweden in Stockholm. I won't tell you what happens, but it's quite a crucial moment in both Pappa and Eeva's feeling of displacement.

Courtesy of Sochi Games

In Sochi this year, Finns have not done as well in the medal tables as they used to. Still, I'm enjoying watching them in action in cross-country skiing, snowboarding and of course ice-hockey where they beat the mighty Russians to get into the semi-finals. Sadly, though, that is where their Olympic Gold medal dreams were crudely taken away - you guessed it - by the bloody Swedes.

Though absolutely gutted, I'm pleased that we'll still have the chance of a Bronze.

Federer at Wimbledon in the London Olympics

Two happy campers!

Daughter and I managed to get a pair of last minute Olympic tickets to see the tennis at Wimbledon. Before the day, we had no idea who we were going to see, nor what kind of seats we'd have on Centre Court. All the same, we were more than  excited. Daughter had never been to Wimbledon, and I'd only been once more than ten years ago when some delightful clients of ours gave us a pair of Centre Court tickets.

This time, we decided to leave home early, as the recommended journey from Crouch End took us via Vauxhall. We, however, met with no crowds, just helpful staff both at the Wimbledon station, village as well as at the venue itself.

When we got to Wimbledon, our first thought was to find out who we were going to see. We both whooped for joy when we saw Federer on the board. When we found our seats were level with the Royal Box at the other end of the court, we were just amazed.

And when Federer and Benneteau came on court, the atmosphere on Centre Court was electrifying. Daughter whispered, 'We're close enough to smell Federer!' What a pleasure it was to watch the two master players fight it out. It's just a shame in the Olympics the matches are shorter, and with Federer's masterful strokes, he easily won in two straight sets.

Wimbledon station wasn't too crowded.

The day's play

Swiss fans were all out for their star

This is how close to the court we were!

Benneteau serving. 

Seppi and Del Potro having a rest.  

To cap it all, we even caught Federer waving to the crowds after he was interviewed on the balcony of the players area. We swooned. (And I forgot to take a picture!)

Today we're off to see the women's gymnastics at the North Greenwich Arena (or O2 as it's known here in London).  Let's hope Team GB do as well as their male counterparts did yesterday.

Olympic fever reaches London - at last!

I just love this picture of David Beckham holding the flame as it arrived in Cornwall in May. Photo: Guardian

Over past twelve or so months I've sometimes despaired at the attitude this city, that I now call my home, has had towards the Olympics. Especially my former employer, our national broadcaster, the BBC, seem to have taken delight in putting the most negative spin on the Games.

Each night on the national BBC TV news it's been bad enough, but on the local London BBC channel there has been nothing but whinging about the forthcoming 'traffic chaos', 'security shambles', 'commuter nightmare', and 'failed promises about the sporting legacy'. The local Olympic reporter, Adrian Warner, has ended each report with a comment such as, 'but there are people who worry that the Games will disturb their daily lives.' Really?

If there was a report on the building of the Olympic Park being on time, it'd be followed by a negative comment about the cost. They'd have Londoners on who had issues with the security, shop-keepers in Stratford centre who worried that their establishments wouldn't get the footfall they normally receive, black cab drivers who not being allowed into the Olympic lanes, were complaining that (in spite of the increased fares which were not mentioned) due to the traffic queues, their income during the Games would be reduced. Reports on the 70-day torch relay through the British Isles, which this week reached London, have been subdued, even though the public reaction to the torch bearers exceeded all expectations. In spite of the unseasonal wind and rain both the runners and spectators had to endure.

The worst of all has been Radio 4, which even compared the Olympic Lanes (which will help the competitors and officials reach the Olympic Park without having to get stuck in traffic) to the ZiL lanes in Moscow. Even though the correspondent in Moscow made the point that the Olympic Lanes will only be in force during the 17 days of the Games, whereas in Moscow, the ordinary people have to endure the officials whizzing past them every day of the year, the programme still ended the report on a negative slant.

But yesterday, when the Olympic torch reached central London, the reporters seemed to have made a secret pact to start celebrating the Games. There were smiles all around, even the whinging London reporter, Adrian Warner, smiled on camera! I nearly fell off my seat.

So today, when the Olympics will finally open, I hope the negative press will at least take a back seat here in the UK. Let's look forward to the opening ceremony, created by Danny Boyle, UK's foremost theatre producer and film director. Let's celebrate the fact that the greatest sports event is coming to Britain, that this country is actually pretty good. That London, the Capital - to quote this week's Time Out - has 'Better museums than Berlin, cooler art than New York, wilder bars than Chicago, and finer food than Paris.'

Our Mayor, Boris Johnson, put my feelings into words last night. He whipped up some national pride when the Olympic flame reached Hyde Park. It was just what the disparaging BBC reporters and whinging London cab drives needed!

Olympic Torch Relay

It's mainly a photo post today.

You must know by now how I feel about The Olympics. I have severe Olympic fever already and so when I saw the torch relay was coming quite close to us, I immediately decided to walk to Prior Road to see it. The atmosphere was fantastic - the road was lined two or three deep as far as the eye could see. People were cheering anything that went past: sponsors buses, policemen on bikes and motorbikes, relay staff jogging, waving flags or unicycling…

Here is the next but last torch bearer of Day 68, who was going to jog up to Alexander Palace and hand the Olympic flame over to Daley Thompson.

The torchbearer is Bill O'Connor - a teacher and a marathon runner who has inspired generations of children achieve their goals through sport.

And here's a video of Day 68

Olympic Torch Relay Photos & Videos - 2012 Olympics | London 2012

It's all cricket to me

Our new place in Crouch End, north London, is surrounded by all sorts of sports clubs and fields. There's tennis, football and cricket pitches galore.

This afternoon, when the Englishman and I went for a walk with the terrier, we counted no fewer than six - six - cricket matches going on at the same time.

Number One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

Five and...

Number six we can see from our flat, although the trees in full leaf sometimes 'spoil' the view!

It was lovely to stroll in the sunshine, listening to the shouts of encouragement from the opposing teams, or the few louder celebrations when a batsman was bowled out. (See, I've got the terminology and all…27 years of marriage to the Englishman has taught me something...)

The Englishman - who was a keen cricketer in his time - informed me that the standard was very good of all the matches we briefly followed.