I know you’re wishing I would just shut up about the olympics, but this morning I read that Paris city council has voted in favour of the city bidding to host the 2024 Olympics. It takes their bid a step closer. This excites me somewhat, although I’m not sure why; I should probably be ranting about the election instead. Yet the events of 2012 inspired me somewhat: I would love to see Paris shown off as London was; I’m curious about how they would handle it. Also, since coming across Ernest Hemingway via Michael Palin in 1999, I’ve had a curiosity with Paris of the twenties. Given that the french capital last hosted the olympics in 1924, this bid seems a nice invocation of that era, a strange, coincidental form of time travel. Thus, as I wrote here, I’m a strong supporter of the Paris bid. At least, Im keeping a close eye on it: not only does there seem a certain justice to it, but my hunch is that in such decisions one can read quite a bit about the mood of the world. So forgive me if I post entries on this subject every now and then: I know it’s nine years away, and nobody really cares, but something in this process, in London 2012, in competing bids, in great cities shown off to the world, has captured my imagination.