A testing start to Thursday with the 7am shift.
The modern interweb is ODD.
People are ODD.
This wasn’t what my careers teacher told me back in 1983.
The Postman Delivers: a shower scraper thingy for the South Lambeth Road bathroom.
He apologised for having opened the parcel first. Something to do with a mixed up parcel.
I could have done without the “sex toy” comment on the doorstep at 8am, mind.
wtf is wrong with this place, etc.
I headed outside for a morning allium inspection.
Anna has developed something of an allium obsession in recent years.
A little more work, and then the swim.
The Trail was buzzing with bicycles. Two wheels outnumbered the walkers.
The swim was as silly as ever.
West Ham Wanker joined me in the showers and asked:
“Is Bob Wilson in here?”
Bob Wilson wasn’t in here.
The swim itself was shit.
Some old male plodder was in the fast lane. I joined him.
The old male plodder immediately switched to a rather violent breaststroke. I suspect that this was an attempt to push me out of the lane.
A well built female then joined us in the fast lane. The Estuary Wilds indoor pool doesn’t have a lane for well built people who can float, but can’t swim.
The well built female continued to go up and down, rather than round and round, as etiquette dictates when there are three in a lane.
The old male plodder was now kicking his arms and legs all over the place.
I crashed into the well built female.
She asked me what I was doing.
The phrase ‘wtf is wrong with this place’ got a little garbled under the water.
I took sanctuary in more work shifts back at base.
Prince Buster kept me company.
Absolute FILTH I tell you. FILTH.
I finally managed to publish the SE21 school content from Monday.
That was an effort.
The garden was watered. The courgettes are starting to flower.
I don’t like courgettes.
Anna returned from South London.
#RHChelsea, the Giro and BOOZE followed.