Bike-less in Sunny Stockwell.


The Mini Moulton is still being serviced; the Brompton is back in the bloody Estuary Wilds.

Which all meant no lovely lido to kick start Friday.


I think?

I confess to rather enjoying my current five week sabbatical away from the freezing waters of Lake Brockwell.

Time and tide (bloody cat sitting) has meant that I escaped the Great Brockwell Freeze of 2018.

And so a run around Clap’ham Common instead.

Clap’ham appears to change at a greater pace each time that I pound the mean streets of SW4.

You can’t fight it, Jase.

I picked up the NME outside Stockwell tube on the return back to the flat.

Oh Lordy.

As final front covers go, it’s hardly War is Over if You Want It #NME

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I was trying to think when I last stopped buying the NME every Wednesday morning. I think it was probably when I stopped writing about music and switched to sport instead.

Which would mean 1998?

But then I had an Indian Summer of bashing out news copy on ropey old American Nu Metal bands. I didn’t buy the NME, but it came with the job.

As for the final print edition on Friday morning?

I’m not exactly the target audience anymore. I might as well have been reading Country Life magazine.

It’s all a load of bollocks, and bollocks to them all.

But hey!

I’m sure some kids still get their kicks out of it.

A quick shower at South Lambeth Road, and then I made the short walk to the SW9 school.

I was on laptop stop / start duties during the morning assembly. I had a major PC fail as I attempted a Mac keyboard shortcut with the screen projected for all to see.


I did manage to avoid the front of assembly Happy Birthday ritual.

A little later in the morning and I found myself back in Clap’ham. The sixth form students were on a PSHE shopping trip. It would have been rude not to join them.

Keeping up with the Clap’ham is changing theme:

Landor Road. WOH!

What happened there?

The rest of the school day was spent in and out of various year groups, and then it concluded with a visit from the English Touring Opera.


They staged an amazing performance that was pitched perfectly for the school.

It was far more enjoyable than flicking through the NME whilst doing my early morning business.

I couldn’t hang around at the end of the day. I was due back in the bloody Estuary Wilds whilst Anna disappears to Gawd knows where with her silly snowboard.

The train journey back was spent editing school content, and generally GRINNING about what a brilliant school it is back in SW9.

I touched down back in the bloody Estuary Wilds, and then out went the shout of:

“To Sunny Colch!”


Disco Darryl and Clare were in town. It would have been rude not to meet up.

I caught the train back out with Anna. She continued all the way down the line to LS on the next stop of her spring world tour to Gawd knows where.

I remained in Sunny Colch.

We ended up BOOZING in The Foresters, the pub – and road – where I use to live as a student 28 years ago.

Not a lot had changed, apart from me drinking considerably less.

Friday came to a close watching cricket in bed.

There’s a Dulwich Hamlet away day coming up in the morning.

Oh dear.

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