An early morning blagging 100 gigs from zoolz, via MSE. I knew that there was a reason why I read those weekly emails from top to tail.
The kittens were lively as I cracked on with the 7am shift. This extra energy must be spring related.
Dotty brought in a wisteria twig as her morning ‘kill.’
I was congratulating her on giving up on Mr Toad when Daisy darted in with our amphibian friend hanging out of her mouth.
Oh dear.
We should have got gerbils.
The #LateJunction Can mix tape was a pleasant morning listening surprise.
I then ended up SHOUTING at iPlayer as I caught up with the Ken clusterfuck interview on Newsnight.
What a bloody mess, Comrades.
I escaped to the garden mid-morning, and then the pool.
The tulips from Essex aren’t as radiant as previous years. Anna first commented on this, despite my denials earlier in the week.
We are all getting old, luv.
There was a slight temperature drop along the Trail. One layer of lycra wasn’t enough.
The swim was bloody ACE.
I put in 40 power lengths, fuelled on by the popadom stash from last night.
More work shifts followed, plus some Gilles Peterson catching up.
The Tony Allen tunes had me bopping along over luncheon. A distributed workforce does have benefits.
Another window in the working day came late afternoon. I cycled out to the Alresford farm shop.
I knew exactly what I had to buy: frozen croissants and fried banana pieces for my Bran Flakes. I pretty much cleared the farm shop out of stock.
I managed to pick up more work in the evening. Daisy and Dotty were quiet. I fear another manic morning to come.