If we went on holiday during the Olympics or the Commonwealth Games, we would take our portable black and white television with us.

Dad would lift the bonnet of the car and connect the television to the car battery, threading the cable through the window of the caravan.

I would watch Kathy Cook and Alan Wells through crackly reception, and then recreate the action, recasting my matchbox cars as the athletes and myself as the commentator.

I remember Phil Brown overtake on the last leg of the 4x400m, and Daley Thompson snap his pole.

But mainly I remember the 1500m. Sebastian Coe or Steve Ovett changing gear on the home straight.

I wanted them both to win, slightly favouring Coe at the time, and growing to appreciate Ovett later. The 1984 Olympics were perfect.

Now, I reenact the home straight on pavements, supermarket aisles and escalators, changing gears and overtaking unknowing opponents, commentating under my breath in the style of David Coleman.

And I have a bias towards anything with thin red and blue hoops on a white background. At home we call this chair Steve Ovett: