The planned Wifey Weekend Roll Out on the road bikes was abandoned shortly after 7am on Sunday.
Bloody estuary wilds rain.
And so a run instead.
It was fairly average, apart from being stopped in my tracks to watch the spectacle of a mother duck leading a dozen or so duckings across a zebra crossing.
Quackers, etc.
A bit of gardening followed. I found a bloody bamboo stalk growing right in the middle of my beautiful lawn.
It has grown from the borders, underneath the grass and then poked up to say hello. I tried to FORK IT. They are resilient little f-ers.
Attention then turned towards the Colne Radio crowd funder. We are halfway there - both in terms of time and pennies in the online tin. We have a week left to raise another £1,500 or so.
HELP!
I forked out £25 to boost a Facebook post. It delivered decent results in the social campaign that I managed for a Publisher last month. I now need Facebook to work its algorithm magic once again.
Afternoon work shifts followed, plus the Ireland Vs France match.
Work tools were downed, the call went out of:
“To the canoes!”
Or rather:
“To the canoe!”
Anna had buggered off to play bloody golf, and so I went down to the Quay for a solo launch.
You know what’s coming next: I got my time and tide all wrong.
I drifted out downstream almost as far as the Creek in just over five minutes flat.
Woh.
That was easy.
I then thought: Hang on. I’ve got to paddle back against a bloody powerful outgoing tide.
It was hard work, with a not very gracious landing. Some bloke in a bloody large boat had decided to moor right in front of the old hard.
I navigated with little grace, and then came to a crash landing in some adjacent mud.
Whoops.
I had some more evening work shifts, and then the Belgium match and bits of Glasto.
Oh - and #whynotjointheLabour party.
*sigh*