The Monday morning 7am work shift was a little manic. It didn’t help that Anna was running her arse off to make the 7:06am train, with Dotty deciding to follow her to the train station.

Naughty Dotty.

Anyone peeping through their net curtains early morning would have seen a very disorganised baldy bloke in his PJ’s running down the street after the silly cat.

The mid-morning break for the gym was much needed. I had a decent street corner natter with Linley and partner about Boudicia back at The Globe.

It turns out that we were both at the same performance a couple of weeks ago. It remains my second cultural highlight of the year, coming a close second to Sleaford f-ing Mods at the Academy.

Linley – a man who knows a thing or two about the theatre – didn’t like it.

I dread to think what he would have thought of Sleaford f-ing Mods, m’duck.

#Hythe, innit

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It was a blustery ride along the Trail to the gym. I had a little time to spare and so took a deep breath and renewed our memberships for another year.

They’ve got us by our bollocks, if you see what I mean. We both want to swim. This is a one pool town.

I had a decent session on the weights, and then a lame swim.

I found myself saying:

“HEY Siri”

…back in the empty gents changing room.

It turns out that the gents changing room wasn’t empty.

Oh dear.

The afternoon work sessions were balanced between tap training for Daisy. Both cats continue to drink from the sink. Daisy’s technique is to allow the water to trickle down her head whilst she licks it off.

She is showing signs of wanting to drink direct from the tap.

Cats are bloody hard work.

The Work Scheduling Goddess then granted me a late afternoon break. I had a couple of hours before dusk. I also had some miles left in my bicycling legs after the aborted CTC roll out on Sunday.

Oh dear

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I took out the tourer for a spin. My average pace was obsessively observed around the familiar Essex lanes circuit. I was determined not to drop below an average of 25kmh.



Le pave sectors around Great Bromley had a fierce headwind. I clocked an Essex detecorist along the Elmstead Market home run.

I was back at base for more work, and some early evening listening of Lambeth Cabinet.


Work tools were downed. I went down to the station, the pick up point for the new veg box that we are trialling.

Mr Veg Box Man Delivers:

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It was bloody brilliant. My evening meal was the most nutritious that it has been in almost a decade.

Matchtalk on BBC Nottingham raised a smile. I realised that I haven’t been back at the City Ground since *that* Boxing Day match against Doncaster in 2008.

The old crowd that I use to run with around the Fair City resolved never to return.

I’m still teasing Anna with a relocation back to the Fair City, mind.

Some FaceTime with Anna followed back in S Ldn. She updated me over the relocation of the Essex worms to the South Lambeth Road wormery.

I also had a guided tour of the paint job carried out by the painters in the flat over the weekend.

I’ll be able to see it at first hand before the week is out.


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