A morning of enjoyment, an afternoon of frustration.
Life.
meh.
The lovely lido was the reason for the smiles. The water temperature at Lake Brockwell managed to rise slightly overnight, leaving six degrees chalked up on the board.
Hurrah!
Only four lengths from me, before the mind wisely told the body to take it easy.
One Mile Ed managed just that - a bloody mile of winter outdoor swimming.
He was wearing a cheeky wetsuit, natch.
But top work fella.
And then it all went a little downhill. I had afternoon activities planned in Pimlico, Bankside and Kensington.
Have plans, will travel.
On a bicycle, hopefully.
I paused to pump a little extra air into my Raleigh 20.
psssss.
The rear wheel wasn’t taking it; not only that, but it was deflating as well.
I blamed it on the crapness of my Lidl fiver pump, rather than the p word that bicyclists don’t like to mention.
The whole experience was something of a let down.
With the tube strike still on for the first day of the working week, I needed wheels.
I know - let’s walk to Brixton Cycles and use their track pump that is kindly locked outside the new Brixton Road shop.
Except it wasn’t.
Keep on walking Jase. All the way towards The Oval, and then on to Newington Butts where those decent folk from Cycle PS will see to you.
But I forgot that the decent folk from Cycle PS had shifted south to Camberwell.
This wasn’t going very well. My afternoon plans were falling apart, but at least I was getting some exercise.
Evans at London Bridge will bound to be open. That’s quite a schlep, all the way from Sunny Stockwell.
Mr Evans was open, and his pump was pretty powerful.
But still psssss.
Oh dear. I’ve got a flat on a 20″ rear hub wheel that is a little tricky to replace.
And now it’s starting to rain. And that bloody tube strike has just been confirmed.
Grrrrr.
I walked back to Elephant, in despair, rather than in any hope.
For some reason I recalled the rather lively bicycle shop under the arches where I bought my first fixie back in the day.
And there it was…
The light was fading, and I needed some good news.
My lively bicycle shop fella had a spare inner for a 20″, and was more than happy to fit it for me. He even carried out a slight seat pole adjustment.
Chapeau!
And so I ended back in Sunny Stockwell around four hours later, with a bicycle ready to roll, but not a lot of afternoon weekend cultural activity having taken place.
Sunday evening was all about the recuperation.
And DARTS.