An ‘agreement’ to work the 5am shift on Saturday morning.
How did that happen?
And so having missed the t20 and stayed in the night before for the non-delivery of a table, I was up and about in the flat a few hours after Anna had returned tired and emotional from The Oval.
The work was quiet.
You don’t say.
At least it eased me gently into the morning for what lay ahead.
Work tools were downed, and then I cycled off to Brixton to see a man about a haircut.
Rasheed underneath the Academy was in fine form. He takes five minutes to finish me off, compared to the Essex cut back *over there* which takes almost half an hour.
No time for something for the weekend, as it was a return to the Brockwell Park Run after a fortnight away.
A brief lido catch up with some of the poolside Icicles, and then I legged it to the start of Park Run.
This was a bit of a weird Brockwell Run.
Having been on hold for a couple of weeks following various festival follies, the decision was taken to stagger the start.
It was quite a broad time category in which to choose from: 19 minutes and under, 23 minutes and under, and then the rest.
I should have slotted in at around 22 minutes.
Madam Pacemaker was just ahead of me. It was far too bloody hot to keep up with all of her over-excitable activity.
I took it at my own pace, suffering on the Cressingham climbs, and then opening up my stride for the descent.
I had a sprint finish in me for the final 500m. I was convinced that the flat foot plodding from behind was from my least favourite lard arse Lambeth Cllr.
There’s no way I’m letting him take me from behind.
And so I paced the sprint and pulled away from him.
But it wasn’t him.
The comedown at the lovely lido was a little manic. The pool was packed by 9:30am, with queues stretching back to the Lido Cafe.
I flashed my card and felt no guilt.
Where were you lot back in February, eh?
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) July 23, 2016
I had a brief ten length stretch, and then a welcome HELLOOO and catch up with Lido Howard from back in the day.
This is the true beauty of Brockwell: most of the old crowd who worshipped at Lake Brockwell back in the Golden Days of the lido some fifteen, twenty summers ago are still swimming.
The water was too warm and a little murky. Plus some bloke was ploughing up and down the butterfly.
But still there is no place in the whole world where I would rather be.
A quick cycle back to the flat, and then Anna and I walked down South Lambeth Road en route to the Koons exhibition at the ACE Newport Street Gallery.
This was my second time with Mr Koons. I loved it so much during the first visit, and was determined to introduce Anna to the warped pleasure.
We both had a giggle in the gallery where photographs are not allowed.
Not exactly SFW, etc.
We left Vauxhall and walked to Waterloo. All around was changing at a tremendous pace.
And then all aboard the lovely jubbly line and out to Canada Water for a retail morning at Decathlon.
As ever, I had a little wish list that soon became oh just buy the whole bloody store.
My cycling, swimming and running needs for the next year or so were taken care of.
My Park Run time dropped as we left. 22’30” – happy with that. I actually medaled in the vets category with a bronze podium finish.
Like MAD FOOLS we then hit the West End on a roasting Saturday afternoon.
I had the shopping bug and had new school uniform to buy for September; a couple of pink shirts, some pink socks and a new pair of jeans.
I tried a pair of skinny fit on. I couldn’t even get them up my calves 🙁
We tubed it back to Sunny Stockwell, had a few household chores, and then the journey back to *over there.*
I cycled on the new MTB for the first time.
Navigating the Transpontine E&C surrounds on a rural MTB probably isn’t the purpose for what it was bought. But I needed it to be back in Essex for the Trail.
The journey was fine, and then it was straight into another run of work shifts all the way through until midnight.
That was a day.