I'm not really a sports person. My daughter's latest school report had this to say about her athleticism: "she enjoyed being the scorer for our games of cricket because she thinks that hitting a tennis ball with a bit of plastic is pointless"; and when they read it my parents both smiled sagely as though here, at last, was clear and undeniable proof that we hadn't picked the wrong baby up at the hospital and that she was definitely mine after all (previously in doubt by dint of her being tall and fashion-conscious). To my certain knowledge, I only caught a ball twice during all my years at Primary School, and my interest was as minimal as my ability when it came to sport of any description.

So given that, it may come as almost as much of a surprise to you as it did to me, to discover that I have been watching AND ENJOYING the Olympic coverage this past week or so. OK, before we go any further, I'd better clarify that a bit - I've not been watching it 24/7 on the red button, I've not even been getting up at 2am to watch particular races transmitted live. But I have been catching much of the 'Olympic breakfast' show in the morning, which essentially rounds up all the really good bits from the previous day.

There's nothing really comparable to the Olympics as a Sporting Event, is there. I suppose the World Cup is its nearest rival, in that it also takes over the television schedules and dominates the tabloids once every four years - but that's just football, so if you don't like soccer then you're done for. The Olympics, on the other hand, is a wide range of sports and so has a far better chance of a hit rate on the basis of being 'something for everyone.' And so over breakfast for the last few days I've found myself watching archery, cycling, rowing, swimming, even volleyball.

Thursday morning, for example, I was watching the highlights of the women's cycling time trials. Now, as you've probably already gathered I don't follow sport at all, so to me the phrase 'time trials' conjured up something akin to motor racing, where they have a practice lap to determine their starting positions for the actual race (a bit like having a wedding rehearsal, another custom I fail to understand). It wasn't until they mentioned that the course was some 20km long, and they started awarding medals for it, that I realised 'time trials' was an event in its own right - and basically it's just the same as a race, but with the competitors starting at 90 second intervals. Because of this staggered start, it means that you can't be quite sure who's won until everybody's finished - fastest across the line rather than first, if you like.

For a long time Pooley (you see how easy it is to be seduced by the commentator's style of calling people by their surnames only) was, in the words of Henry Kelly (or Kelly) going for gold. It seemed a dead cert, and then at the eleventh hour Armstrong from America beat Pooley's time by twenty-four seconds, relegating Pooley (by which I really mean, Great Britain) to silver.

This morning (it's Saturday as I write this, whether you're in Beijing or England) I've woken to discover that in the 800m swimming Adlington has not only claimed a second gold (not bad for somebody who's only 19) but has also broken the world record in the process. This afternoon there's more cycling to be seen, indoors this time, and tomorrow there's the final of the women's quadruple sculls. Based on the qualifying rounds last week, it looks like we'll be hard pressed to beat the Chinese team at the sculls - they did a better time than us without seeming to kick into top gear, while we won our heat but clearly had to pull out all the stops to do so. And there you go, I'm sounding like a commentator again.

I must say, I rather like the fact that we seem to excel in things like boating and bike-riding; they're both such traditionally English activities that it would be a shame if we didn't. You can be sure that if there were medals for 'afternoon strolls' and 'advanced scone-making' we'd be higher up the league table than we currently are.

I suppose part of what gives the Olympic coverage its appeal is that it very quickly brings out certain individuals, who overnight suddenly become household names. Michael Phelps the American is one such - I'd never even heard of him until Tuesday, but now I know that on Tuesday morning he was the only man ever to have won ten (and that total is now thirteen and counting) Olympic gold medals. Incidentally, he was described on American television as "the winningest Olympian ever" so there you go - thirteen medals and a new word awarded to him, praise indeed.

But closer to home, we have some names of our own - and just as the likes of Sharon Davies and Steve Ovett and Steve Redgrave (and probably other sportsmen & women whose christian names don't even begin with an 'S') appear now as commentators or pundits in coverage of those events they once participated in, you can be sure that some of 2008's names will one day find themselves following the same route. Obviously at 19, Rebecca Adlington probably has more Olympics in her yet, but she's almost certainly cemented a place for herself in the public eye already.

Then there's fourteen year old local boy, Tom Daley. I say local - he doesn't come from the Curnow Towers estate or anything like that (obviously if he did he'd be down the mines with all the other peasants) but he does hail from Plymouth which is in the same county. Well, it is at the moment anyway - Plymouth's ownership seems to be a bit confused at times, I suppose by dint of Brunel's Royal Albert bridge being such a potent representation of the border between Devon and Cornwall. But assuming that Cornwall hasn't invaded overnight (and I'm not ruling it out - I can certainly believe that "Cornwall invades Plymouth" would be knocked into number two on the news behind "Adlington wins second Gold"; frankly, since it's only the Southwest of England, it could easily slip down to number three behind "skateboarding dog") then Tom Daley hails from this very county, and is therefore local.

Sports presentation is a fickle, and at times a rather insular, thing; so when Daley and his partner come eighth on the leader board it's "disappointing" and quietly fades into the background on the highlight shows. But frankly for any 14 year old to even qualify for the Olympics is pretty impressive in my book (certainly a lot more than could ever have been achieved by 'two-balls' Curnow). When I was watching the archery last Saturday, one of the three-women team was described as "the rookie" by the commentary, almost as if the team consisted of two proper archers and just somebody's sister there to make up the numbers.

But almost by definition I have to assume "the rookie" (obviously if they'd won I'd know her name, or her surname anyway, but I'm afraid I don't and although I'm enjoying the highlight shows I'm not enjoying them enough to look up the lady's name, OK?) is the third best female archer in England - again, in most circumstances that would be an extraordinary achievement in itself. Yet somehow, at the Olympics, and although everyone seems reluctant to say it, we only tend to remember the winners - the Gold Medal athletes, not the Silver and certainly not the Bronze, as though coming half a second behind the fastest man on Earth (or whatever) is a mere second-rate achievement not worthy of mention. It's a shame, because it seems to fly in the face of the "three cheers for the plucky losers" mentality that most people admire about sport in general and, I think, the English in particular.

Anyway, with the rest of the week still to come, and although China is looking very secure indeed at the top of the medal table there's still very much everything to play for. In the meantime, it's back to you in the studio!

Update, Sunday 17th - The perils of leaving a piece lingering on the hard-drive overnight, it becomes out of date so quickly. This morning, Michael Phelps is up to fourteen (with eight at one Olympics being a record in itself); I've actually got up in time to specifically watch a race go out live (albeit this one was on at 9:30 rather than 2am); and the women's quadruple sculls were overtaken at the eleventh hour by the Chinese team and forced into silver after the gold seemed theirs for the taking.

But perhaps the most amazing news is that we are now third in the overall table, behind China and the USA. Since we were languishing down at seventh or eighth earlier in the week, that's an amazing achievement, and I can't remember the last time we were third. That's pretty darned good I think... Or does it just make us the rookie?