Up early on Saturday morning for some social media scheduling silliness with the Publisher that I am partnering up with for the next month or so.

It’s a continual push in trying to reach a new audience. I’ve have posts across various platforms scheduled for the past couple of days whilst I’ve been in South London.

The channels have seen a healthy increase in engagement. I’m pretty pleased with what we have managed to achieve with a minor budget.

LOVELY. Have a good one.

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Anna and I then cycled off along the Trail, all bound for the Castle Park ParkRun.

The Trail was empty early morning. I slowed down around one of the blind bends, thinking that I had heard the bell of another bicyclist.

It was a bird.


#Colchester Park Run, innit

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And so another Saturday morning, another ParkRun disclaimer: this is no time for a PB, Jase.

I was five pints down for the count from the night before. The last thing I felt like was running my arse off around Sunny Colch.

But somehow I found myself positioned at the start of the pack. I legged it around the first corner, and then kept track with a club runner who I knew was a decent pacemaker.

I kept his tail for the first circuit, and then wondered why the five pints of Fosters hadn’t made a guest re-appearance.

They thought about it as I entered the sprint finish, but the Bran Flakes breakfast told them to bugger off.

The end result was a PB of 21’32” – an achievement that I am extremely happy with. I seemed to stall around the turn of the year to even break 24 minutes back at Brockwell.

Anna managed a PB as well – her third ParkRun, natch.

Oh dear

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We had a bit of business around town, and then we bussed it over to Re-cycle in Wormingford once again.

Re-Cycle, innit

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Having failed last weekend to buy a new MTB, I thought I would try my luck once again.

There wasn’t a great deal of stock to be honest. We did a quick turnaround, and caught the bus back back to Sunny Colch.

Anna’s highly perceptive chunder radar picked up on a lady passenger who had probably also had five pints of Fosters the night before.

Best let it out, Madam.

There. That’s better.

We did a bit of bicycle window shopping in town, but I managed to resist. I’ll go and see my man Bob back in SE17 next week.


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We cycled off to the pool for a clean up, via the Salvage Yard down at the Hythe.

BALLS to B&Q – this remains my homemaking emporium of choice.

We are after a work desk for South Lambeth Road. My approach is to buy the first thing that we find. This time it was Anna who managed to put the brakes on the spend thriftily.

The swim was decent. Snorkel Woman was in the adjacent lane. That’s just cheating, Madam.

Back at base and the aim was to tackle the garden. It didn’t happen. I was bloody knackered. I caught up with some online admin instead.

And then a five hour work shift, working on a client linked with the Champions’ League Final.

Back in the in the ITN basement days and I’d be working on the @RichardGallon inspired ITN Goal Ticker.

Fifteen years later and we’re talking Periscope, Twitter CTA’s and hashtags that change to match the play on the pitch.

Hasn’t the modern interweb come a long way?

Hasn’t it?