Some Novara Media listening as I settled down for the 7am work shift.

It beats breakfast radio, Comrades.

The stop / start work stopped.

I switched my attention to Greater Anglia.

A refund on a cancelled train has been ruled out. I couldn’t be arsed to appeal - but f-em.

And so I did - appeal, not f-em.

The task of booking a journey from the Estuary Wilds back to Nottingham then took far longer than it should.

£70 via London seemed steep. I became creative and managed to the Norwich route for £48.

Job’s a good ‘un.

All this effort left me with little enthusiasm for the gym.

But I pressed on with the weights, and then a tired swim.

I’m only realising how much the CTC Club Run the day before takes it out of me.

Some more work, and then the Aussie innings in the ODI back at The Oval.

But it started to rain back in S Ldn, and in the bloody Estuary Wilds.

I heard an unsettling trickling sound from the front of the house. I went outside to investigate.

The guttering is unleashing a torrent.

Arse.

The mood lightened with the realisation that I have £30 of free bets, having placed a tenner on a most unlikely / unpleasant politician to win on Thursday.

The initial bet was to raise the spirits, should the knobber actually win.

I had a little fun digging around for similar uplifting odds, should other unpleasant politicians pull it off.

2017 is so f-ed.