DESPITE being ignited over 2,700 years ago in Olympia, Greece, the 'Olympic Flame' had never bothered to visit our neck of the woods until last Friday.

Now although one visit in three centuries could be considered a slight snub, we'll forgive the 'Torch' for its little trespass, because it's always better to be 'late' than 'never', and we don't want to provoke the 'Torch' into spilling over with an incandescent rage before it reaches London, do we?

After hopping on a bus from Monmouth and enjoying a brief airing in Raglan, the Olympic Flame finally hot-footed, or bussed it to the Hardwick roundabout where hundreds of hot-headed enthusiasts patiently awaited it's arrival and lined the streets all the way from the Plas Derwen to Waitrose's car-park.

And why? Well that's exactly what I wondered as I loitered on the junction of Mill Street and scowled fiercely at the glaring sun which seemed to be patiently waiting alongside hundreds of others for something 'big' to happen.

Quite what we expected, I don't think anyone knew, but such has been the perpetual and pointless media hype surrounding the Torch Relay that the sense of suspense and anticipation in the air was more tangible than unwashed Lycra to us headless chickens lured out of our offices, shops, factories, pubs, beds, and sordid little dens of inequity by the elusive promise of being, if not a participant, at least a spectator of history in the making.

Now although the 'Gateway to Wales' wasn't going to benefit from the show-biz weight of Will.I.Am strutting through our little market town, twittering aimlessly and grinning inanely, perhaps Tom Jones could have added a little punch to the proceedings by dressing up as Owain Glyndwr and carrying the 'Torch' solemnly on a white horse.

No such luck, what the expectant crowd got was a confusing number of police officers on both bike and foot patrolling the route ahead of the Olympic Convoy, which was definitely a spectacle if not quite spectacular.

If the waiting crowd wanted a physical representation of the Olympian ideals and standards which best commemorate Prometheus's noble theft of fire from the Greek God Zeus for the enlightenment of mankind, they didn't get it. What they got was the 'Real Thing' or more appropriately Coca-Cola.

Leading the way at the helm of what can be only described as an all-singing, all-dancing carnival of capitalism was the giant fizzy drink manufacturer in an open-topped advertisement on wheels, accompanied by some discordant music and a collection of young men and women gyrating frantically on top of this strange battle-truck like a group of overtly enthusiastic Butlin's red-coats on amphetamine.

Nevertheless the obliging crowd waved back and applauded these happy dancing souls, whose fellow employees hardly set the 'Olympian Standard' when they paced alongside the truck as it rumbled along its merry way, and gave out free bottles of Coca-Cola to all and sundry, except the next generation of Olympic athletes perhaps?

The tribute to Coca-Cola was followed by two other similar emotionally charged and moving testaments to the brilliance of Samsung and Lloyds TSB, and then to everyone's delight Will Young cruised past on a float as he busily butchered the Doors 'Light My fire' in honour of the Torch Relay.

OK the last bit was an utter fabrication, but the point is it wouldn't have been such a surprise if it had happened such was the surreal nature of the event. As it was we got down to brass tacks and and awaited the actual runner.

Seconds ticked by and became minutes and then it happened, a little smiling guy in a white outfit, flanked by eight runners in grey appeared. The torch was most definitely in hand and held aloft like a beacon of hope passed down through the generations in tribute to the resilience and strength of the human spirit.

And as the crowd silently viewed those flames for a few seconds and marveled at the wonder of it all, something flickered for a minute, and then it vanished and was gone. History had passed the lower end of Abergavenny by and moved on to Red Square.