We were awoken incredibly early on Saturday morning by a marching cat. The parade ground for her dawn break drill was my chest.
I wasn’t standing to attention.
The Buzz piece on Grow / Pop Brixton was published mid-morning. It is one of my strongest pieces for the site.
It has been an absolute struggle to be honest in getting the story. I’ve been working on it on and off for the best part of a year.
Getting different people to talk has been delicate.
But it’s out there now, on the record and hopefully as a wake up call as to how the Nu Brixton economy works.
I was fired up for the Colchester Park Run.
Having achieved a PB last week fuelled on five pints of lager, I took the sensible decision of being BOOZE free, and let the Bran Flakes work the magic instead.
And not *that* kind of magic, either.
It was a mistake.
I was convinced that I had ran a new PB, legging it around Castle Park with a particularly impressive sprint finish.
But woh!
The final official race time was 22’20” - almost 50 seconds off last week.
How the chuffers did that happen?
I cycled off to the pool instead to sulk in the spa.
An unfortunate incident took place in the gents. I asked an old fella about his aftershave, which smell rather pleasant.
He thought that I was hitting on him.
Whoops.
(It was Brut, btw).
I braved Art on the Railings at the other end of the Trail. I wasn’t really interested in the church art to be honest. I needed to pap some local folk for the Colne Radio crowdfunder.
Ta, Madam.
The mad cat was BONKERS back at base. She ponced around the shed roof, and then did a dump right by my forge-me-nots.
BAD mad cat.
And then it was all about the BOOZE.
Anna and I headed back into Sunny Colch for the ColCAMRA Summer Beer Festival.
We ended up drinking BOOZE in a Sunny Colch churchyard, with some lovely people whilst sitting on a tomb.
Classy, Jase, Classy.
Just like the fella next to me at the bar, who asked the CAMRA chap if he could sample a beer - for his girlfriend, like.
Top work, mate.
My approach to Beer Festival etiquette was:
“I’ll have that one.”
Beer is beer. Life is life, etc.
We had made the strategic decision beforehand to stick to the Porters.
Oh dear.
It got a little messy.
Saturday evening was spent in a right old state back at base, trying to make sense of the t20 on Sky, and the GLORY of the London Nocturne.
Chapea!