So the Olympics have been and gone. The land to air missiles have been dismantled. The fighter helicopters have stopped hovering over East London. The police have ceased patrolling the river in their motor boats - for now, at least.
In fact, during the Olympics, the roads were quieter than anyone could have expected. The visitors stayed in the Olympic venues most of the time. Speculation that people would not be able to go about their daily business during those 17 days was largely unfounded. And now we head into Part Two. The Paralympics. More of the same, I hope.
Being about as unsporty as anyone could be - apart from my weekly jaunt to the gym - I can only admire those who make it their life's work to be an athlete, particularly the paralympians.
On the night of the opening ceremony of the Olympics, I was in Stratford on the roof of one of the apartment blocks, to watch the fireworks. We could see the stadium, and it was very impressive and almost surreal. Anyone who knew Stratford (as I do) even five years ago would have been lost for words.
Through the last month, though, my painting has been rather inconsistent. But it's nearly the end of the summer. I'll make up for lost ground in September with lots of new ideas to put into practice as the autumn draws in.
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