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Walking through London's St Pancras station the other day, I had a little frisson of excitement. There, on the concourse, is the first , for all your souvenir t-shirt, baseball cap, mug and mascot needs.

Anyone who has been lucky enough to go to an Olympic Games will know exactly how the siren call of the Olympic Store works.

At first, you walk serenely past, untempted by the range of branded leisurewear and collectibles. By the end of week one, you might have fingered the odd t-shirt and considered whether your mum might like a tasteful porcelain breakfast set.

As the closing ceremony approaches, you are in a state of panic, grabbing armfuls of cuddly mascots and key rings from the rapidly emptying shelves, even (in extreme cases) contemplating buying the CD of the official Olympic song, which you had so derided during the opening ceremony.

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