A Moulton F-frame along South Lambeth Road at 7am on Friday morning.
White as well.
Chapeau!
I didn’t have quite the same glamour as I pedalled through Brixton on my Raleigh 20 shopper.
I’m still unsure about the mechanics of my South London moves. The tyres could go at any moment; the lock is the same as the one that let me down back in the Estuary Wilds earlier in the week.
I’m going to become a cropper.
But not in the lovely lido.
Lake Brockwell was STUNNING.
It was no different to most morning swims, which still means that it was STUNNING.
The water temperature has risen a remarkable 5 degrees since my last dip two weeks ago.
Cold water swimmers know how to calibrate such matters. There is a HUGE difference between 2 and 7 degrees.
I slipped with the lengths. I only had time for six.
I still left with a huge GRIN.
Apologies to fellow Icicles and work colleagues. I came up with some post-swim garbage in my conversations.
And then a school day in SW9.
It has been an amazing achievement for a brand new school and playground to be built over the course of the year.
The disruption has been minimal; the work is now complete.
LOVE that SW9 school.
I joined a drama lesson early morning. Our warm up was the headband game - each participant has to guess blind what appears on their headband by asking some questions.
Boy Y asked me to take a photo of him.
Of course!
He then asked if he could see it.
Why not!
And so Boy Y: what do you think you are?
“Am I spinach?”
Doh! My photo kinda gave the game away.
The game of tangle took a bit of getting use to. All students and staff join hands in random connections. You then have to work as a team to become untangled.
It was very… hands on.
Daniel Ruiz Tizon would have been in meltdown with his hand wipes.
I cycled back to the flat at chucking out time.
This dropped in my RSS feed.
wtf?
How the chuffers did Essex radicalism and critical thinking become a play thing for ‘Santander Universities?’
Like Punk Never Happened, etc
Essex yoof of today: we went on rent strikes and lock ins to fight for…
Actually I’m not sure what we were fighting for.
Probably a Santander University.
The shout went out early evening of:
“To Tower Bridge!”
Oh Lordy.
And to a SPOONS boozer as well.
It was very decent catching up with old pals Disco Darryl and DG.
I tried my best at disrupting the natural flow of order for The Count.
#chinchin