A kick in the ribs from Anna at 6am meant that she was about to do her S Ldn disappearing act.


That bloody hurt.

I stayed well clear as she ran around the house, and then ran for the train.

The early morning work for me was a little more relaxed.

I published a Lovebox update over on Buzz.

Herne Hill Labour claim that Lovebox at Brockwell Park was “rejected” as formal consultation starts for Field Day festival

A slight panic took place with Last Pass. I was asked for an auto master password reset.


New details were given.

And then Last Pass appeared to lose all my securely held data.


It turns out that there was a slight delay on the update filtering through.

The modern interweb will eat itself.

I cycled off for a mega, mega gym session.

It was ACE.

Treadmill, weights, a swim and some steam.

The refurbishment of the showers still hasn’t finished.

It seems that the gents are sorted, but not the women.

Males were shunted into the female area, and vice versa.

I think the logic is that blokes don’t mind be smelly – something that I would strongly contest.

Arthur or Martha, etc.

A bitterly cold afternoon of work shifts followed.

Gilles Peterson warmed me up slightly.

The latest BT bill dropped early evening.

It runs to over five pages of credits, debits and discounts.

I tried to understand it but thought f-it.

Football was on TV.

Or to be more precise – The Pies away at Swansea.

There’s always been a Notts County element running deep through my family tree.

Oh dear.

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