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Like an offer for the Greek Gods, one child brought me a dead bird in the playground. It was at the very least in keeping with the theme of ‘Olympic day’ and I adopted a discus stance as I threw it in a bush (the bird, not the child). The coach trip to the Olympic centre involved endless renditions of ‘I’m a real spring chicken’ and one case of vomiting. When we arrived at the centre we were greeted by Athenia, Apollo and Hermes or when they forgot and broke out of character, Sheila, Malcolm and Dave. Hermes, or Herpes as one child kept calling him, was our guide.