like a bird

Today, the Olympic triathlon came by work, or least very nearly so. The running and cycling took place between Hyde Park and Green Park and the swimming in the murky waters of the Serpentine. At 11:30 on the dot, as the starting gun fired, the local fauna suffered the shock of their lives. Frantic flocks of coots, mallards and the Queen's own swans launched a narrow escape from the threshing of the swimmers' arms, only to be sliced into waterfowl carpaccio by a TV helicopter's blades seconds later. It was pandemonium – a theme of the Olympics since Brunel started the industrial revolution during the opening ceremony – and only a short stroll away, past the Albert Hall and across a street.

A British pair of brothers came first and third, and while China and the US fight a proxy war for global supremacy, Great Britain is quietly adding to its own tally and leading the rest of the world in the medals table by a huge margin. They Games are far from over and they've already accumulated more gold medals than Michael Phelps earned over the course of his Olympic career. The glory!

But Britain is a good place to emotionally share in success. People are humble and self-deprecating. There's never gloating when things go well, no teasing or taunting. Spiteful patriotism is reserved for football (with no risk of ever winning). The British are genuinely happy and charmingly incredulous about their team's performance. Go Team GB!

There isn't much negative about the Olympics besides the cost (which I won't have to stand for). Prices haven't risen, traffic hasn't collapsed, everyone is cheerful. Many residents gave left town to take their summer vacations. The city feels quieter and calmer for their absence and, unless you run into an Olympic crowd, easier to navigate.

Besides the branding, London hasn't changed all that much. It is full of international visitors, much like always, except this time around they're wearing patriotism on their sleeves. Free arts and entertainment events are being staged all over town, much like always, except they're now Olympic-themed, at least in name.

Tongue in cheek I could say that the biggest problem is the number of volunteers, greeters and helpers. There's just too many of them and too little to do. You can hardly walk down a street without running into some dude in pink who engages you enthusiastically and tries to force a venues map into your reluctant hand. I've got four at home already.

On my way home from work, just past the volleyball venue, there are two side streets leading to official parking areas. Each night, on either intersection, a brave soul in yellow high-visibility jacket engages with me to ensure my safety, holding the rare car and waving me across, irritating self-importance mixing most bizarrely with a genuine sense of service. I feel like in kindergarten and want to punch him or least yell at him to get real. At the same time I want to hug him for his passion and thank him for doing his part to make the games fly. Who would have thought just three weeks ago?