Bob Marley to start Saturday.
Blimey.
Cliche, cliche, of course.
But I wasn’t quite ready for some heavy dub to start the weekend.
@RobertElms has been banging on about Bob all week. I wasn’t even aware of the studio version of No Woman until the four-fer on Thursday.
Legend may be a rasta-lite scratching of the reggae surface; it is also a bloody good album to get you going at the weekend.
And then something different for Saturday: the Colchester Park Run.
I’ve become pretty addicted to the Brockwell leg of the event back in South London. I thought that it was about time that I attempted the Sunny Colch route.
I cycled into town, and was rather surprised to see around 300 (?) runners, all waiting by the bandstand for the start.
This was an unknown course for me. I am familiar with the ups and downs of Castle Park, but I simply couldn’t make sense of the online route after looking the night before.
I decided to hold back and just set a steady time; start with a low base, and then if need be, you can push on for a PB in weeks to come.
Madam Mayor of Sunny Colch is a regular. We had a charming chat, before I made my excuses and went to the back of the pack.
The course turned out to be rather tight. It was a little unsettling with the doubling back on other runners in the opposite direction. The uphill finish was harsh.
But I’ll be back, in-between Brockwell runs.
I cycled straight from Castle Park to the pool. West Ham Wanker tried to tempt me with his pilates class.
I made my excuses and splashed around instead.
Bloody cramp kicked in after the first four lengths. Should have gone to pilates, fella.
The pool was empty, but a bizarre near miss took place when a young lady almost torpedoed me. She had the full width of the pool, but took my direct line.
We made up afterwards in the steam room.
I arrived back at base to pick up the Park Run email. I was pretty pleased with the official time of 22:45.
My PB still remains at 22:09, run at the beauty of Brockwell Park. But I wasn’t really pushing it in Sunny Colch this morning. The route is more runner friendly than Brockwell. I sniff a PB in Sunny Colch coming up soon…
I popped in at the Farmer’s Market on the way back.
SAUSAGE TIME, etc.
Luncheon was all about the Brian Clough Derby. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.
Sky high after the run and swim, my energies were a little… exuberant. I launched into mid 80’s Trent End songs all about Robert Maxwell.
It was poor / good (?) timing, with a bloody #LabourDoorStep turning up, just as I let rip with my thoughts on Arthur Cox.
I simply LOVE this fixture, if for no other reason than bringing back memories of @KiltedSplendour being frog marched around the old Sheep Dip back in ’89 after he was slung out.
Let’s brush over the score from today…
I headed back out to Sunny Colch mid-afternoon.
I had snaps to take, some shopping, and a little art to try and appreciate.
Having been blown away by the Martin Parr exhibition at The Guildhall last week, I’m keen to return to more street photography. But it’s a fine line between being artistic, and receiving a twat in the face for being a cheeky bugger.
The shopping front fell equally flat. I’m after a waistcoat, but not one that has a knobber silk backing. I have searched in vain for one of these.
Whatever made me think that I would be successful in Sunny Colch?
I even ended up having a look at Burton. I almost gave up climbing the steep stairs to the the menswear (boys…) section.
I don’t think that I fit the Burton demographic.
The art was more rewarding: Warhol at Firstsite.
#Warhol @firstsite. Bit perplexed by pop art pop up car showroom outside tbh. But yeah: WOW pic.twitter.com/EIz0UkwORV
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) March 19, 2016
It was a case of ‘ill met by moonlight, fair Titania…’ as I randomly entered the exhibition at the exact same time as my FAVE local LibDem Cllr.
We exchanged some polite words about the art. I was pleased that we didn’t get on to the politics.
Saturday evening was all about making SLOP for when Anna returns from Italy tomorrow.
Plus the highlights from Milan - San Remo.
Chapeau!