Not quite a clear head to start the first day of the year, but yeah, I was up and about ahead of the kittens.
Sadly I just can’t do lie in these days. My body clock has had the dials hard coded to match the constant junk mail that I receive from Saga.
Yep - I am comfortably into middle age.
I don’t really mind. I use to be ‘creative’ [ha!] at 2am. Now I find that I am simply practical at 6am and get shit done.
That will be cleaning the kitten litter trays, then.
Start 2017 as you mean to carry on, Jase.
For absolutely no logical reason, I decided to listen to Mule’s latest epic with the Hosepipe Band.
It’s bloody good.
The Green Children and Other Poems obviously has something of an eastern angle persuasion. But then Mule writing about urban living just wouldn’t work.
I edited the photos from the Brightlingsea walk as I got stuck into my Bran Flakes.
The lighting was poor; I also feel that I am treading the same photographic path. We really need to explore some new terrain a little further away from the estuary wilds.
I caught up with my very dear friend Darryl’s 2016 Medium post. He’s had a rough year. I didn’t know that it had actually been so traumatic. Perhaps I need to be more of a friend.
I still think that Disco Darryl is one of the best online writers around. His words have flowed down various devices for over a decade now.
I stirred Anna, and then we both cycled off along the Trail for the New Year’s Day Colchester Park Run.
A grey squirrel has been throwing himself at my spokes for the past few days, in the exact same spot along the Trail.
It’s pretty scary shit. Contact with the spokes would lead to me coming a cropper around a tight bend. The bloody squirrel would become mincemeat.
Yet still the little fella insists on trying to dive through my moving wheel each morning.
I hope that he isn’t suicidal. He’s pretty hopeless if that is the case.
Colchester was pretty crappy at 10am on New Year’s Day to be honest.
We climbed East Hill, with piles of freshly laid chunder marking intervals of every five metres or so. It wasn’t exactly the chalked out words of encouragement that greets the elite riders as they climb Mont Ventoux.
Park Run however was ACE.
It’s happy clappy shit - but how wonderful for the many volunteers to give up their Bank Holiday morning to allow others to enjoy Park Run.
The field was a little clipped, even for the 10:30am start.
I’m not sure why, but Anna wasn’t running. She decided to view and video me instead.
Cheers, luv.
I was feeling relatively fresh, but knew that a sub 22 minute time to match the Saturday run was unlikely. An official race time of 22’22” was a half decent start for the New Year.
Predictably we ended up at the pool on the bicycle ride back to base. It was bloody busy.
The plan was then for a wander around the town, and possibly to explore the new Syrian restaurant that has recently opened.
But the estuary wilds rain then started to fall. We stayed indoors instead and watched the Arsenal match.
And then Sunday evening was all about DARTS.
Bloody love that game.
BIG bicycle ride planned for the morning.
Chapeau!