A few months ago I was congratulating myself on my fantastic planning abilities.
The scare stories commenting on how appalling London was going to be during the Olympics had led me to believe we were going to be in permanent lock down, with transport chaos and the world laughing at our silly little island in the North Sea crumbling under the pressure of holding a big event.
To this end, we decided to 'endure' the first week of events and then "get the hell out of Dodge", to enjoy a sunshine break.
This last week has been fantastic. My bum has barely moved from watching the games.
I've either been at events in person, sobbing in front of the television or enjoying one of the fantastic communal viewing areas dotted around the city.
Today we head off to Crete.
I've been looking forward to this trip for ages but somehow, now we are off, I really don't want to be leaving this Greatest City in the World.
We will be enjoying our plastic lasagne, eaten with plastic cutlery, served by women with plastic smiles as the 100 metres semi and final are taking place.
It seems wrong.
Greek television had better be pretty good or I'm going to be using up ridiculous amounts of data over the next few days.
Yesterday will go down as one of the greatest days in British sport.
Six gold medals, (plus a couple of other near misses), was beyond the imagination of most of us.
Kids all over the country will be looking up online the details of their local rowing, running or cycling club.
Even as an old fart, I'm feeling inspired to get back to my fighting weight and play more of the sports I lived for only ten years ago.
One final thought.
I'd love it if a new generation of youngsters now looked up to our glorious athletes rather than those muppets from TOWIE and Big Brother.
That would be a success to me.
Has anybody seen ITV over the last week?
Didn't think so.