Friday

Some Tinariwen to start Friday morning, via Late Junction.

I think I like the romanticism of the Mali tribal gang, more so than the music itself.

Late Junction in the morning is kinda like that, Comrades.

The Other One and #FaveKitten

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The kittens were keen to see snow for the first time.

Of course they weren’t, but the human / animal communication exchange leads you to impose your own interpretation on whatever the kittens might, or might not be thinking.

They did sniff around the back door though, and set I let them out to explore what was nothing more than dirty Essex slush.

What a time to be alive, Daisy and Dotty.

What a time.

#lolcats

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I finished off the 7am shift, and then cycled off into the snow myself.

It was bloody bleak.

A chilled Trail. Brrrrr.

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I timed it so that the rather brutal sleet along the Trail was falling directly into my face.

Ouch.

That bloody hurt, you f-er.

I arrived at the pool and walked straight into the sauna, fully clothed. I was too ashamed to undress in public after allowing the elements to interact with my manhood.

Brrrrr.

I warmed up, and put in an average 40 lengths.

A decent chat followed in the UKIP spa. One of the good ‘owd Essex boys told me in great detail about his memories of the 1953 Jaywick flood.

It was actually quite moving.

West Ham Wanker then joined in the conversation. His liberal use of profanities was my signal to leave.

Bit of a high one, innit #WeirdWiv

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I stopped off along the Quay briefly to try and capture the exceptional high water.

Except it wasn’t that exceptional to be honest. Even the flood barrier remained open.

BIG #ESSEX SKIES

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I had a brief catch up with the always charming @MrBoom.

A steady afternoon of work followed back at base. Anna blagged the Desk from the Raj / Colchester. Her Dress Down Friday consisted of ski trousers.

There were plans to see Penny Rimbaud performing once again at Firstshite.

But an evening with the anarcho ex-drummer of Crass was put on hold as we had an appointment with our financial adviser.

Sock it to ’em, JC.

Instead we stayed in for the evening. I watched TOTP from 1983. An Album Chart featured.

I played a game of turning away, and visualising the album cover for each entry. I was spot on with all ten albums.

I do miss working on a record stall. In my ideal world then I would be managing a record shop back at Victoria Market in the Fair City.

I’d be about of business after the first week.

An evening of DARTS followed.

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