Some early Sunday morning Buzz action whilst that nice Mr Urban continues with his gentile weekend retreat.
I published the photos from the Dulwich match, and then a brief hit and run piece on Loughborough Junction regeneration bollocks.
I rocked up at the waters of Lake Brockwell a little later than I had planned. Most of the Icicles had already put the lengths in and had showered - *still* cold showers, natch.
An elderly gentleman in the slow lane was plodding up and down wearing a boater hat in the water.
GOOD EFFORT, Sir.
I managed twenty lengths, despite the daytime recurrence of one of my nightmares that brings me out in a cold sweat.
The story goes something like this: I am alone in the water and some BEAST speeds up behind me and takes a bite.
The EXACT SAME thing happened on Sunday morning.
Sorta.
I felt something brush up against my leg. I thought it was another swimmer at first. The lane was empty.
I stopped and turned around.
Nothing.
My nightmare had confronted me.
I didn’t have a response - or an explanation.
Some silly arthritic stretches then took place poolside.
I surveyed the GLORIOUS scene of Lake Brockwell. I concluded that all around me is a model in which we should all lives our lives.
I can’t expand on any further specifics.
I can’t be arsed to be honest.
In fact I just made it up whilst stretching without really thinking through any of the deeper philosophical statements contained in the statement.
#lidolove, etc.
I put my half-arsed theories away and cycled off towards the Serpentine.
Blimey.
I was keen for a brief shifty at the 2017 summer pavilion.
It was a stunning day out in the centre of town. The pavilion looked like it had been built out of pre-Lego wooden blocks.
It was playful, if a little DIY garden shed.
I snapped away with my main f717 camera, and then with the iPhone.
I have known for some time now that the iPhone camera is far superior to the old school f717.
The snaps on Sunday confirmed this. I am now considering leaving the BIG BOY cam at home, and working off the iPhone as the sole work mule.
I had a bit of business back in the flat, and then shortly after luncheon out went the shout of:
“To The Oval!”
Hurrah!
The ‘rrey had a relaxed #t20Blast game at home to Sussex. These occasions are far less stressed out than the Thursday and Friday night t20 piss ups.
It was a full house for the old korfball club Surrey attendees.
Even Anna had made the effort to come in from bloody Essex.
Which was nice.
We sat in the Lower Pavilion, close to the Sky caravan.
It was quite a sight to see KP and Freddie back together once again.
Anna and I went our separate ways once Surrey had wrapped up the game.
She headed off to the Estuary Wilds; I walked back down South Lambeth Road.
I f-ed up with my train booking time. I had a couple of hours to kill in the flat.
It’s a funny old life, this flitting and flirting.
I edited the photos from The Oval, and generally got my act cleaned up after the t20 BOOZE.
A couple of hours later and I was cycling over to LS and back to *over there.*
Oh dear, etc.
Let’s do it all over again next weekend, Comrades.