A triumph. From I.K. Brunel to Tim Berners-Lee. From Gregory's Girl to Dizzie Rascal. This was the Britain we love and not a sponsor or a Zil Lane in sight.
I knew we were in for a treat when it began, winking at Pink Floyd's take on Battersea Power Station. And the Pink Floyd returned at their early-mature best to the emotional climax, the lighting of the flame. Well done for that one. No other nation on this planet would showcase a persistent, long-term derelict power station!
What would they think of us watching in a buzzing Chinese city or from a Brazilian favella?
They might think of us as an interesting rainy island that had got over itself and with a lot of honest history (those belching chimneys in Ancoats or Failsworth now belch in inland China, after all). We put our best foot forward, we were confident about ourselves, looking outwards, a cultural power house (yes, including Mr Bean!).
It was by turns funny and serious. It did not falter. And there were the nice touches throughout, the construction workers, the NHS (I detetected a debt to the late Denis Potter there).