Friday

An early morning gym session and swim to start Friday.

My body was aching ahead of the weights. I wimped out with some lame bench presses.

The swim was a little painful.

The adjacent lane was taken by a rotating female kicker. She turned around mid-water at the end of each lane, rather than touching down.

This led to her legs kicking out into my space, and kicking me where it hurts the most on one occasion.

OUCH, Madam.

I tried to disguise the bruising of my male ego as I showered and changed.

My work is always of the stop / start variety; but Friday was particularly punctuated. I had a half hour window to get some food in.

I pride myself in being able to spot the reduced yellow stickers in the aisle at fifty paces. I f-ed up though with some fresh soup on offer at two for £3. I bought three.

This annoyed me for most of the morning.

A bit of Buzz and a some Chronic blogging action followed.

Blogging for shit and giggles, etc.

We set up the trial for a weekly veg box over luncheon. Anna and I had a superb fortnightly box back in the Dorset Road days.

I kinda miss those Dorset Road days…

We have a few ‘issues’ with the model of the supplier that we are trialling. It will all be down to the quality of the veg that swings it for us.

No more bloody raspberries, please.

Work ticked over.

I dipped in and out of the cricket.

wtf are we doing playing an international ODI at the end of September?

The shout went our early evening of:

“To Sunny Colch!”

oh.

We had tickets booked to see John Otway at the Arts Centre.

Back in the day and an Otway gig was on our agenda every couple of months or so: Nottingham, S Ldn, the City of Death.

Can't sing can't play, what's his name? OTWAY

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It’s been over seven years since we last saw the Great Man.

Not much has changed – which is kinda the appeal of Otway.

The bicycle ride back to base under moonlight was rather invigorating. We were tempted by the Trail, but went via the University instead.

#FaveKitten, innit

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We arrived home, fed the cats and then retired for the evening.

Such a lady

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I’m getting too old for this rock ‘n’ roll lark.

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