A greeting from le gai pensionnaire at the gates of Brockwell early on Sunday morning.
His beaming presence was almost as enjoyable as the empty streets of Brixton as I cycled through at 8am.
le gai pensionnaire was on Brockwell Jumble Duty. It is a duty which Monsieur Pensionnaire is rather good at.
I had a brief rumble through the jumble ahead of a Lake Brockwell dip.
The chap selling the vintage clothes always interests me. He appears to be one size larger than me.
The lovely lido swim was brief, but functional.
Is it just me, or is the Brockwell Blue looking a little green around the gills of late?
I didn’t have time to hang around and investigate. I picked up a random 10am work shift back at base.
A steaming bucket of soapy water was then flung at the South Lambeth Road front wall.
I observed a mysterious damp patch along the white paint work before leaving for the lido.
Actually, it wasn’t that mysterious. A group of chaps had been congregating outside the flat at 6am. I don’t think that they were up early for a day trip out to the country.
Take that, mysterious damp patch.
My mind flickered with the image of Daniel Cruz Tizon from around these SW8 parts as I washed away the chaps’ wee wee.
I wonder how the coffee ponce would have handled the soiled situation?
The rest of the morning was spent tidying up the South Lambeth Road garden.
We have reached lavender harvest season. This is one of my most joyous times in the garden, as well as one of the most tiring.
It may be only a small plot caught up in the Transpontine sun trap, but it takes bloody ages to harvest it all in.
It didn’t help that I had a compulsion to sniff my fingers every five minutes.
The stench of chaps’ wee wee had long since disappeared.
I didn’t stop there.
I was on a gardening roll.
The hedge – that technically isn’t ours but the can’t be arsed neighbours never touch it – was next for the chop.
Out came the hedge trimmer as I gave it a final haircut for the season.
It was very much a No.1 all over.
Something for the weekend, Sir?
I didn’t find any used condoms buried within, as has been the case before.
Operation Set up the Wormery was next.
Except we haven’t got any worms.
Actually we have, but they are back in bloody Essex.
Still, I set up the wormery ahead of the delivery of another batch of wriggly wrigglers.
The skies had now darkened. I did have plans to see some track action at Herne Hill. But it definitely wasn’t track cycling weather.
And so crappy housework instead.
I had to finish off publishing the SW9 school content early evening.
A little FaceTime time with Anna, and then early to bed ahead of a SE21 school day in the morning.