A phantom Brockwell Park Run to start off Saturday morning.
I rolled up outside the lido, but there was no mass gathering.
Oh.
Around thirty or so other runners were lingering.
A lingering runner is never a good thing.
It turns out that the public park had been pimped out by Lambeth Council for some crappy ‘assault’ event.
Gung Ho [URGH] invited runners to take on the Brockwell hills, plus a few inflatable thrown in.
The price?
Stroll up on Saturday morning Sir, and you wouldn’t get much change out of £60.
Actually, you wouldn’t get ANY change of £60.
wtf?
And so I did the exact same thing that I started to do some 22 years ago: I ran around Brockwell Park.
It was quite beautiful.
I wasn’t alone either. A phantom Brockwell Park Run took place. All of the other runners who messed up with the official announcement did their thing.
It cost us bugger all.
The real bummer was that the assault course shite was still being set up.
Why the fuck should a private company be given priority in a public park?
Brockwell Park Run takes places for 45 minutes or so, once a week. It is FREE to race, it costs the Council nothing and it gets residents using the parks.
Gung Ho however…
£60 my sweaty Brockwell hairy arse.
I came to the close of my phantom Park Run as the Gung Ho-ers were starting their inflatable course.
Why do these sort of shitty events have to have some novelty value?
Just run, innit.
It was a little awkward with the Gung Ho route being the opposite direction to the usual Park Run.
You can detect that I was no fun of the ‘fun’ race down at Brockwell this morning.
I managed my 5km at a very reduced pace. It’s amazing how the Park Run pack somehow speeds you up.
The lovely lido was waiting for me.
The water temperature has dipped back below ten degrees overnight.
The little tease.
It was the most incredible swim. I had a lane to myself. The dancing fairies had returned to the basin of the pool as the South London sunlight beamed down.
Ten lengths in and my mind went a little emotional. I started to think back to the many memories that I have whilst swimming in that pool.
It’s the best part of half of my life.
All of my major life decisions have been made under the blue skies of Lake Brockwell.
I had something of a *possible* life changing decision to make earlier in the week. If I went one way in the world of work then it would mean no more Lake Brockwell.
The lovely lido continues to govern my life.
I made the right decision.
I chose life 🙂
Elsewhere around the pool and it was a pleasure to see many friends having the same lido life confirming moments as me.
These are folk whose past two decades or so have been defined by the lido. I still get a reassuring feeling whenever I see Casey returning each time to *his* lido.
I arsed around a little in the spa, and then cycled back to Sunny Stockwell. The South London tranny was doing his/her tranny thing on the bicycle along South Lambeth Road.
Luncheon saw me cycle off to Westminster. It was the #UniteForEurope march.
I wasn’t marching, but documenting.
The sentiments are there for sure, but bugger me - the stench of the liberal moral high ground could be felt underfoot.
Just kick it until it breaks, Comrades.
Some pasta refuelling back in Sunny Stockwell, and then out went the shout of:
“To Transpontine del Curva!”
Hurrah!
BIG MONEY Billericay buggered up Dulwich in the first 20 minutes.
An ex-England international playing at this level in the non-league tier?
wtf is that is that all about?
I had a decent time catching up with some old and new faces. It was GLORIOUS in the South London sun.
It ended up with a trip to the nearby SPOONS at the Fox on the Hill.
Oh dear.
It all went a little messy.
Those @desrterblog blokes are a bloody bad influence.
Fuck. Those @deserterblog blokes are a bad influence #chinchin #dhfc
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) March 25, 2017
I somehow made it back to Sunny Stockwell.
Saturday evening came to a close with some FaceTime with the kittens.
And Anna.
LIVE the S Ldn dream, Comrades.