When you are blindly, brilliantly in love, it just means that the cosmos has directed you towards your beloved solely on account of your ability to find endearing those flaws in them that others can't stand.
Take me. I thought I loved the Olympics. I learnt to love Mandeville and Wenlock, the two much-maligned mascots. I came to look fondly on their googly eyes and longed to ruffle their shiny, non-existant hair. I felt funny in my tummy every time I took a train eastwards out of London and saw that stadium-in-progress.
But, but, but... I have come to doubt my feelings because, try as I might, and lord knows I have, I just cannot learn to love this:
That logo. I just can't look it in its five eyes and pretend everything's OK with us. I wish I could.
This logo was extravagantly embossed (well, OK, just printed, if you must) on an invitation to the launch of a more-up-than-down-but-not-really-all-that-upmarket jewellery label's Olympic-themed collection, which was orginally addressed to my friend Miss W, who kindly gave it to me, as she knows I like That Kind Of Thing.
It was an upmarket invitation. Feel the thickness.
Mmmm, the thrill of luxury stationery.
I'm glad they went big-budget with the cardboard because, given the design concepts greenlit thus far, Olympics-wise, I'm not exactly holding out for the collection.
What can we possibly expect from Olympic-themed jewellery? Giant five-ringed pendants on hefty chains, reminiscent of the Beastie Boys' VW period? A big knuckle-duster of a ring that spans your whole hand, with a different coloured Olympic ring on each finger (there are too many senses of the word 'ring' going on in this paragraph for my liking). I think this was Miss W's idea. You can tell from this that she works in fashion. Another of her ideas was a tiny solid silver javelin to wear through your septum. I expect her to have her own line in Elizabeth Duke any day now.
What else? Well, if this is to be the second coming of the austerity Olympics – the sustainable Olympics, I may have heard it called – after the excesses of Beijing, then we must reuse and recycle, we must make, do and mend, we must make enthusiastic noises about natural resources and hoary craftspeople. I would like see spectacular tribal necklaces featuring feathers moulted by London's pigeons and harvested from the pavements of Trafalgar Square. I would like to see bracelets woven from the balls of dust and human hair found in the tunnels of London underground. I would like to see bangles and cuffs as red and shiny as London's iconic buses, and made from the bendy ones that are destined for the scrapheap. I would like to see chunky papier mâché beads made by primary school children throughout London's boroughs from free newspapers and magazines found discarded on various means of public transport.
Perhaps you have your own ideas. I will not be wearing any of them, obviously. Yours or mine. Or anyone else's, most likely.
In other Olympic news, despite my then-irrational infant loathing of Sebastian Coe, you can imagine that I was still thrilled to see this in my inbox.
38. QUEEN ELIZABETH OLYMPIC PARK, LONDON
11 months ago