OH HAI Mr Toad.
It was a not very welcome return of my least favourite amphibian at 7am on Thursday morning.
Dotty trotted in with the little fella in-between her teeth as I was settling down for the first work shift.
Cheers, luv.
Mr Toad was packed away in a PG Tips box - an upgrade on his hotel accommodation of the Oats So Simple the day before.
I pressed on with the work.
Serenade Radio played the unseasonal Summer The First Time.
“I SAW THE SUN AS A MAN”
…etc.
It’s still spring around here, mate.
My escape - and that of Mr Toad - came mid-morning. I took him all the way down to the Trail and the estuary to make a break for freedom.
Anna and I have been engrossed with Roots over recent weeks. I am IN NO WAY making a comparison with African slavery and Mr Toad. I did feel like I was removing him from his homeland though.
His homeland just happens to be my back garden. Dotty is the the vicious little bitch of a border control pussy.
Naughty Dotty.
I cycled along a blustery Trail and on towards the gym.
Gym machine hogs are bloody arses.
wtf is the point of sitting there for 15 minutes, waiting for a non-existent social gratification in the form of a f-ing Facebook Like?
Just Do It, innit.
West Ham Wanker was practising his golf swing in the gents. It was most odd.
Something tells me that this is not the only type of swinging that he practises.
NEVER enter the UKIP spa with West Ham Wanker. And if you do, make sure that you wash your hands afterwards.
I was blown back along the Trail with the Estuary Wilds winds behind me.
Best place for them.
In Elephant Thingies News: We have some elephant thingies.
@RobertElms lined up Some Guys Have All the Luck - Persuaders Vs Bobby Palmer in Cover to Cover.
Mr P won - and rightfully so.
It’s a bloody BONKERS version of the song.
#WotNoRod etc?
Mr Toad made another appearance with Dotty at luncheon.
ffs, etc.
Except I don’t think that it was Mr Toad - more like Master Toad.
I couldn’t be arsed for another Trail trip. I packaged him up in Anna’s lunchbox and took him down to the pond at the end of the road.
NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY Dotty.
The Pogues made a surprise appearance on the speakers for the run of afternoon work shifts.
I’ve never bought into the band - not since Reading ’89 when a tired and emotional Shane kept me awake in my tent.
I’m still not won over. I guess you need to be wide-eyed and legless to get it; 3pm on a Thursday afternoon didn’t quite cut it.
I bashed out a brief Chronic piece, and then made it outside late afternoon to scrape the moss off the patio bricks.
Phew - rock ‘n’ roll, etc.
I was joined by the delightful podcast company of Daniel Ruiz Tizon. I’m playing severe catch up with the Coffee Ponce of SW8.
My latest listening had The Kid in the studio with our Sunny Stockwell flaneur.
Christ - he’s chuffing vain.
The Kid, not Mr Tizon. I thought that it was all a comedy act at first.
The Estuary Wilds sunset was proving to be irresistible.
Um, like most things around the Estuary Wilds…
Ha, bloody ha.
And so I legged it down to the Quay for a hit and run photo shoot. I seem to take snaps of the same locations each time.
Hey hoe - it’s all ‘social documenting’ bollocks, innit.
We had a Colne Radio meeting early evening. It’s all about the FAB FM switch to 106.6 in less than two months now.
Plenty of planning…
Anna returned from South London. We ate chips.
And then another work shift to close Thursday.
Spring is rather ACE tbh.