Saturday

A restless sleep for Friday night. I was caught under the South London moon tan.

I awoke very early at 5am. I was still cutting it fine for the 9am start of Brockwell Park Run.

Brockwell Park Run, innit. LOVE it

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This is an event that runs on South London time. Everywhere else in the country and 9am signals the start of the race.

Back in Brockwell and we start the running about ten minutes later.

I was boxed in from the start. My running reservedness meant that I felt it rude to push in front of the other runners that I knew I could take.

The halfway split led to a time of 10’42”.

Aye aye – I could be on course for a 21’30”-ish finish here.

I gave Ivan – Mr Brockwell Park Run – a high five with his foam hand as I ran back towards the lido.

TOP MAN.

I wasn’t expecting a PB from this. I even slowed down at the line, allowing a Bright Young Thing to take the glory ahead of me.

The official race time of 21’14” was a bit of a F-ME moment an hour later.

A PB by nine seconds.

Next up is to try and break below 21 minutes.

Oh dear

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The first big swim of the season at the lovely lido followed. We have gone past the stage where the water temperature occupies your mind from the moment you awake.

It was around 12-13 degrees – I think?

#lidolove

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I dived in and did a serious 20 lengths.

LOVELY.

It was a little congested in the Brockwell blue. The Windrush Tri swimmers and the Swim-athon had blagged half the pool.

Come on in – the water’s… as we use to say back in the day.

I showered, and then cycled back to Sunny Stockwell.

This was one of those Transpontine mornings where Sunny Stockwell lived up to the billing.

I then made the short walk to The Oval for the second day of play for the ‘rrey Vs Warwickshire.

GOLDEN DAYS, Comrades. Golden days.

Oh. I appear to be on the piss in the Peter May sun terrace #chinchin #3feathers

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I arrived in time to see Sangakkara lose his wicket.

Ta for coming, etc.

I didn’t tell the great man this.

Peter May Boys, we are 'ere. Just about #3feathers

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The Nu Peter May pisshead sun terrace was ACE. It was warming up in every sense before luncheon.

I often dismiss all of the psychogepgraphic bollocks. A sense of South London BOOZINESS has managed to remain within the structure of the new stand though.

Tell It Like It Is @surreycricket #SaveOurCounties

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Luncheon saw a Members’ Forum over in the OCS. The GREAT MAN Alec Stewart was doing his PR thing for the club.

I tucked in to the freebie posho sarnies, and had a bit of a *swoon* moment listening to the Great Man speak.

I managed to squeeze in a second helping of freebie posho sarnies. I felt a little less shame when I clocked a geezer filling his rucksack with the remains of the day.

TUCK IN, fella.

Home, innit #3feathers

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I walked back around the OCS to return to the Nu Peter May. There was some BONKERS ice bath event taking place.

I declined the offer, feeling that I have done my icicle time back at Lake Brockwell over the winter months.

Surrey had a post-luncheon collapse; this was nothing compared to the Warwickshire balls up of a batting performance.

“Come on Bell End. Let’s see if your batting is as good as your tossing.”

Arf.

On the piss in the Peter May. Still. #3feathers

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There wasn’t to be a happy Oval ending for Bell End.

The game progressed and so so did my Lidl lager intake.

I had a rather decent Saturday afternoon.

#Transpontine, innit

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I took a leisurely walk back to South Lambeth Road. It developed into a drunken photo shoot.

Drunken photo shoots are often the best.

And so Park Run, an outdoor swim and watching Mr Sangakkara batting at The Oval.

Right on my SW8 doorstep as well.

That was a GOOD day, Comrades.

Same again tomorrow.

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