The plan was for an early morning midweek run. I stumbled out of bed, and then limped down the stairs, clutching on to the banister like a proper old wrinkly.

My mind LOVES the early mornings; my body not so.

I used the early hour to be productive: time for the big BT Box switchover.

The Postman Delivers:

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I’ve been a refusenik for almost a year now in TURNING ON the new box that Mr BT sent. I can remember the date it arrived – the day the mad cat first took a turn for the worse last summer 🙁

I’ve had it in my mind that the new BT Box is cursed. Plus there’s the small matter of the 50 odd programmes that I’ve stored on the old drive, waiting to be watched.

But Mr BT TURNED OFF BT Vision this week. My old box is a bit of brick, apart from the recordings.

With the t20 season almost upon us on Sky Sports, I plugged in the new BT Box early on Wednesday morning.

Ah – that was painless.

There’s no Favourites functionality – which is a bit bobbins.

I then had the brainwave of keeping the old BT Box still set up in tandem.

‘cos you never know when you might want to watch 50 odd programmes that you recorded over the past seven years but never quite got round to watching…

I pressed on with the work shifts. It was routine for a Wednesday.

Luncheon led to a swim.

Muddy Banks Midweek

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The bicycle ride along the Trail was a little bonkers. Some crazed MTB bloke was tearing up the Trail at a speed that I haven’t seen in almost seven years of cycling it.


He was soon out of sight. I could see he had passed through as the dust was hanging in the air when I pedalled through a few minutes later.



A collective of ramblers were oblivious to my plodding pace and very loud bell. Gawd knows what happened when they met the crazed MTB bloke.

Bloody cyclists, etc.

I was convinced that I had punctured. I am paranoid about the dreaded pssssst after recent mishaps.

But I hadn’t.

The swim was rewarding on such a warm day. I shared a lane with Poetry Pete. I tried to think of a few lines as I put in the lengths.

Apologies – I still bloody HATE poetry.

I had some more work back at base, and then some Buzz action.

Good effort Helen Hayes in raising the Ritzy strike at #pmqs. It was a piss poor answer from the PM in all but name.

Lambeth Labour aren’t exactly pure in all this, either.

Work, cricket commentary and croissant cooking took up most of the afternoon.

Plus fretting over the S Ldn work / play plans over the coming days.

I’ve got two big school days for the rest of the week. I may – or may not – have a finished flat to stay in.

I waited for news from South Lambeth Road via Anna, before booking train tickets.


The flat renovation is over-running. It seems that my S Ldn days are on hold for another week.

A hit and run Transpontine day coming up in the morning, Comrades.


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The Other One

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