When London announced it was bidding for the last Games, people were convinced we wouldn’t win it. Once we did, the view became that it would be rubbish – we wouldn’t build the stadiums on time, or that they would be white elephants; that people wouldn’t buy tickets, and that it would rain for a month. But all the moaning disappeared with the opening ceremony – the time that the nation, almost as one, decided that this was going to be a great Games and got behind the team.
Until now, inevitably, we have raised the same suspicious eyebrow, and asked the same world-weary questions about preparations in Rio. Will the Games be properly organised? Can the Brazilian government’s expenditure be justified? I am prepared to bet that tonight, once the flame is lit, the same alchemy will be worked: cynicism will give way to a grudging British appreciation that masks delight.