Park Life

When you see a shop with queueing space outside for over five hundred people, it's hard not to be curious about what lies within. The Olympic Megastore is a vast space, filled with all manner of kit that I'd love if it didn't cost more than most of the tickets I've bought for this fortnight. £50 for an admittedly nice hoodie is seep, but £65 for a GB football shirt is getting silly. Found a display of flags, and was interested to see who was and wasn't being catered for. Aside from the obvious demand for the British flag, the big sellers are Jamaica and China, friendly staff member Kira explains. She had to disappoint a Canadian couple yesterday, and the French flags have been stashed away in the storeroom. Surprisingly you can't get an Irish flag either. Americans bring their own. Write your own punchline. Reminded that the best Olympic mascot by far was Barcelona's Catalan sheepdog Cobi. Wenlock and Mandeville feel painfully over-designed.

The park itself is built with ambitious confidence in the English weather. Almost no sheltered areas open for public milling around. Some lovely grass areas which fill quickly around lunch time, and look beautiful now. Not sure how they'll be after two solid weeks of the world's feet and patriotically-themed picnic blankets.

The commercialism for which the Olympics are so often criticised is actually fairly unobtrusive here. You'll get annoyed by roving flashmobs of Hare Krishna wannabes trying to sing about how wonderful coca cola is, but apart from that it's not too bad.

The absence of the Olympic flame (hidden inside the main stadium) is utterly shameful. How can an organising committee who got the relay so right get this so absurdly wrong? The flame is the symbol and the life of the whole games, not just something to be lit and forgotten about by everyone save the track and field competitors.

The other huge problem with the park lies in the landscaping around the big screens. Taking inspiration from Wimbledon's don't-call-me-Henman Hill, the architects have installed a huge screen where events are shown throughout the day. The problem is that they've pointed it straight at a hill that's covered in trees and flowers, while tiny slivers of grass off to the sides get a sliver of the action. A neat row of trees hides the screen entirely on one. These sitting areas (brought to you by British Airways) are ringed by sloping borders of wildflowers, which just three days in are being trodden into paths for people who don't want to take the long way round, and will look terrible in a fortnight. Any attempt to enforce a 'capacity' in these areas by creating only one entry point has been rendered completely moot. It's all been spectacularly badly thought out.

The mood, though, is upbeat. I'm fortunate that the sun is making a decent stab at shining, and the crowds are picnicing happily. The stars of the games continue to be the volunteers, almost all of whom are helpful, eager to have a chat, and knowledgable about the park.

I'm off to watch some handball for the first time, but more on my experience in the Aquatic Centre to follow soon.