This week: Olympic whingers

It’s finally here, after seven years of worrying that the stadium wouldn’t be finished in time. Seven years of stressing about Jessica Ennis’s chances of picking up gold. Seven years of fearing that the billion-pound outsourced security contract might go wrong. (OK, so that concern wasn’t entirely unfounded.)

Yes, the London Olympic Games have finally arrived. After seven years of listening to colleagues whinging about the money spent, the media’s obsession with sport and how the weather would spoil it all, the waiting is over.

And the nation appears to be getting behind it, at last. The sun’s finally out and a big party is about to start. Even pupils are getting involved: if our Tour de France victory is anything to go by, it only takes one or two high-profile successes for Britain’s kids to carry their oversized derrieres off to the nearest park.

Anyone who turned out to welcome the Olympic torch will vouch for the fact that there’s now a real vibe around 2012 (your correspondent was in east London last Saturday as the torch passed by - there were too-cool-for-school teenagers smiling and laughing everywhere).

So to the naughty step with you, all Olympic whingers. You will be staying there for at least a month. Or until a three-week downpour ruins everything.