A disjointed Saturday; a break from the usual routine.
Work started the weekend.
Pay to play.
I then had to wait around for the poncey East Dulwich coffee table to be delivered to the flat.
OH HAI poncey East Dulwich coffee table.
My man was on time.
But it still meant that I missed Park Run.
Which is just as well, seeing as though Brockwell Park Run didn’t take place because of bloody #lambethfireworks.
I wouldn’t have known this.
Work tools were downed. I set off on my own private running route.
My legs had miles in them – ten to be precise.
I did the Clap’ham Common / Brockwell Park / Larkhall Park circuit.
Mid-morning wasn’t the best time to do this with the streets of S Ldn busy with weekend folk.
I’ve not been around the Clap’ham Park Estate for a while. It was reassuring to see that the indie DIY shop is still trading.
The Acre Lane approach continues to change. Long gone are some of the familiar trade stores that I once used.
I approached Brockwell with tired legs. It looked a little damp for bloody #lambethfireworks.
The run back through Brixton and Atlantic Road was a little chaotic. It calmed down on the other side of Stockwell as I approached lovely Larkhall Park.
15km – 10 miles on the button.
News then came in from back in the Estuary Wilds: Anna had locked Daisy in the shed all morning.
Meanwhile Dotty had been entertaining herself with a blue tit in the pussy tunnel.
Life is sometimes a lot easier in S Ldn.
In BIG BOY Water Butt News:
My Butt Man turned up on time to fit my butt.
It looked a simple job. I would have buggered it up trying to cut into the down pipe.
With perfect timing, the S Ldn rain dried up. I am in need of a downpour to make sure that my butt isn’t blocked.
More work shifts, and a start on the editing of the SW9 school content from Friday.
Late afternoon and out went the shout of:
“To Newport Street Gallery!”
I bloody LOVE IT there.
Each exhibition is playful and cheeky; each exhibition is very different to what has gone before.
Dan Colen is currently occupying the gallery space.
I was thrilled with the drunk and disorderly Scooby Doo.
The rather large self portrait dick was a bit of an eye opener.
I walked back by the river, still grinning.
I passed the South Lambeth Road cafe, keeping an eye out for Daniel Cruz Tizon. The Coffee Ponce of SW8 had probably slurped up for the day.
The Sunday Painter gallery next door is something else that has completely passed me by.
When did this first appear?
An art gallery along South Lambeth Road?
*checks property prices*
Saturday evening was a ROCK ‘N’ ROLL affair of another work shift, and then more progress on the SW9 school site.
I revisited audioboom. It appears that non-paying users have had a reprieve.
The content won’t fall off the back of the modern interweb after all.
Some FaceTime with Anna ended Saturday.
She asked me how she can stop her golf aches and pains.
Stop playing bloody golf.