The 7am work shift and the reappearance of the big bad cat in the garden.
I don’t think he wants to intimidate Daisy and Dotty. His aim is to make a twat of me as I hiss him away in my PJ’s.
Be gone, you bully.
The stop / start work led to a welcome gym and swim break. I cycled along the Trail wearing a helmet.
The To Helmet or Not To Helmet arguement divides bicyclists with the same passion that Brexit divided Britain.
I have long since been on the No Helmet side, apart from when I am out on the road bike.
My reasoning has nothing to do with arguments over assertiveness; helmets mess my hair up.
A very close friend came a cropper yesterday on the commute. He is convinced that his helmet saved his life.
Sometimes I value my life, more than my vanity.
The blossom is blooming all along the Trail since I last cycled it a week ago. It reminded me of our childhood home that had a couple of cherry blossom trees in the front garden.
I went past the old house as part of a running route a few years back. The trees were chopped down, but not my childhood memories.
I never liked the trees, tbh.
They were too messy for a young boy starting to explore the wonderful world of OCD.
Awaiting in the gym was West Ham Wanker. He was dancing around to You Win Again, rather than lifting any weights.
The irony is that West Ham Wanker ALWAYS wins.
Apart from when he is watching West Ham.
Some geezer rolled up wearing a full on early 80s shell suit. It was the type of wardrobe that back in Brixton would have you labelled as hipster.
Back in the Estuary Wilds and he looked a knob.
The gym was decent, the swim was even better.
I cycled back to base, helmet et al, for a run of afternoon shifts.
I set myself the target of The Fall Peel Sessions box set from start to finish. I made it to halfway.
Correspondence continued over the South Lambeth Road freehold f-ups.
Anna is not happy.
I did a little gardening late in the day. It was with a heavy heart that I dead headed the daffs. No one likes a drooping daff.
And then early evening out went the shout of:
“To Essex University!”
The Blades basketball team had a home court game against Bath. A win would lead to promotion in the BUC Premier League.
It was a little weird being back on the exact same court where I was sent off playing 5-a-side some 27 years ago.
I still contest that my Stuart Pearce inspired rugby tackle was legal.
It was a decent ball game. The Blades pushed ahead in the fourth to seal promotion with a 101-63 win.
The remainder of Wednesday evening was spent watching Three Days of De Panne, and a bit of Prince Buster skanking.