Once the Games has rolled out of town we are just left with the memories and the comedown. The reality of the impact of the Olympics will still be there so lets hope that the market gets back to normal and that the predicted influx of visitors show a bit more adventurous spirit and venture across the road from Oz to take a look at Kansas. Or to spell it out - that bit opposite Westfield, which after all, is where the real Stratford actually is.
Months of early-morning dance rehearsals all come down to this. Immune to 80,000 noisy ticket holders outside, all we hear are instructions from Gina, our Manc director and segment chartist, on our in-ear radios. It's 9.57pm on Friday 27th July 2012, and we're about to be watched by an expected more than a billion people for the Opening Ceremony of the London 2012 Olympic Games.
"The isle is full of noises", read the tempestuous pledge on the giant Olympic bell. From the moment that our latest British sporting great, the Belgian-born cycling hero Bradley Wiggins, rang the giant Whitechapel bell, and Kenneth Branagh began to narrate a story of this sceptred isle, Danny Boyle's opening ceremony certainly delivered on the promise.
The 2012 London Olympic games were born in the melting pot of multiculturalism. As we were reminded on Friday, the tragedy of 7/7 happened on the day after the announcement of the success of the London bid. The London games arrived in 2005 with the London bombings. Thankfully, we have come a long way since then.
There was a strange disconnect between the historical pageant which opened the Olympic Games and reality in London today-not to mention the plutocrats in the VIP seats. While people cheered the suffragettes, the CND symbol, the lesbian kiss, the Sex Pistols, and of course the NHS, in the real austerity Britain the politicians and businessmen watching are bringing us more wars, privatising everything in sight and curtailing the right to protest.
From teasers and early coverage of rehearsals for the Olympic opening ceremony (turning the stadium into a representation of rural Britain, complete with sheep and all that), I must admit I was expecting a continuation of that story, a sequel to the sickly-sweet pageantry of the Jubilee complete with miles of bunting.
The Olympics opening ceremony is a difficult gig. Unmentioned in any of the hype - pre, post, or during the interminable thing itself - is that 90% of it consists of people walking past wearing funny, though not especially hilarious, clothes and taking pictures of each other with their smart phones.