A day in the park...

As a boy I knew the huge marshalling yard behind Stratford station in London's East End very well. On Saturday mornings I would often go there with my dad, a steam train driver, to collect his pay. It was an opportunity to see the locomotives up close, to stand on the footplate and wonder at the vast array of mysterious levers and dials and to peer into the raging heat of the firebox that seared your skin. We deftly stepped across rails dodging hissing engines, trucks and carriages on our way over to the pay office. Over the years the yard deteriorated into a weed covered wasteland as the steam sheds were demolished with the arrival of soulless oily diesels. Now, 60 years later, that yard is the Olympic Park, packed with gleaming buildings, elegant walkways and right now teeming crowds.
We attended a morning Paralympics session in the Olympic Stadium. Fearing a paralysed transport system on the first day back to school we left early, but we need not have worried, travelling from Limehouse we were in our seats in the stadium within an hour. The greeters and security staff were friendly and efficient whisking us through. It was all so easy. In the stadium the atmosphere was electric. At the entry of the first athletes a massive roar went up that reverberated around the Stadium. We watched shot put, javelin, long jump, and wheelchair and running events on the track. That particular day many blind athletes were competing. In the long jump blind athletes were lined up with the run in and the athletes assistant then stood at the jump off line and called and clapped. The athlete sprinted towards the noise and jumped as he sensed the line which was a slightly raised board. The whole stadium had to go quiet for each jump so that the athlete could hear his guide, and we did. It was amazing, everyone seemed full of admiration of such pluck determination and skill.
Later we were to see blind runners in sprints and longer track events running with the assistance of sighted guides tethered to them at the wrist. There were single legged shot putters and javelin throwers throwing from a metal stand which they sat on. They all seemed to be achieving quite respectable distances. The 800 metre wheelchair races drew a huge roar from the crowd especially when a GB athlete was competing. As the wheelchairs circled the track the crowds roar travelled with them. Even the lone stragglers, trailng hundreds of metres behind, got a rousing cheer and round of applause urging them on in salute of their dogged determination. The athletes showed such spirit and courage that you felt you had to give them all the appeciation that you possibly could. It was a salutory masterclass demonstrating the very best of the human spirit and to us a humbling experience.
The atmosphere in the stadium was happy and relaxed The crowd consisted of all age groups from toddlers to ancient pensioners all drawn together in a celebration that was a living proof of how disabled people can overcome personal challenges and enjoy sporting competition in spite of terrible disadvantages. As the session was about to finish we made our way around the middle tier of the stadium to photograph the cauldron. Then we meandered through the rest of the park which is dotted with fast food stalls and gift shops. Everyone was enjoying the hot sunny day and the stunning surroundings. Banks of flowers in full bloom alongside varied foliage made an exhuberant and colourful display contrasting with the hard landscaped paths and awesome modern buildings. The warm friendly atmosphere of the stadium pervaded the picnic tables dotted around. Grassy banks beside the river Lea, which meanders through the park, provided a natural amphitheatre to sit and watch events on big screens. The river and its tributaries which weaved through the park was a haven for marsh plants insects and birds. Background music drifted from speakers and small groups of street entertainers bands and singers all added to the festive atmosphere. It was a pity that you couldn't enter the velodrome or pool building just to look. From the outside the Velodrome is beautiful as well as being impressive. The pool building is similar but presently cloaked with rather ugly seating extensions.
With our wagons dragging we finally made our way home. The trains were not crowded, at least the ones we took, but we did ignore the official advice to walk to West Ham or take the DLR. That's the advantage of being a Londoner and knowing the tube well.
Reflecting on our day it was happy, inspiring, and spectacular all at the same time. It took me back to a place that I knew so well in early childhood. I wonder what my Cockney dad would have made of the wonderful transformation of his workplace? I am sure it would have been something like " Cor, love a duck, that's class boy!".