A Bank Holiday Monday of work and play.

And chores.

Always bloody chores, Comrades.

The windows at South Lambeth Road were in need of a clean. I was restless at 6am.


Let’s clean the bloody windows before the S Ldn heatwave kicks in.

I’m still ROCKING the magnetic window cleaner, three floors up. I look a right knob trying to keep it all together.

Best look at a right knob at 6am.


I cycled off to Lake Brockwell at 8am, expecting an 8:30am pool opening time.

It opened at 8am, innit.

Oh dear.

The first queue had already started to snake up to the bicycle racks when I rocked up. I had no shame in flashing my pass and queue jumping.

We’ve earned this with our winter swimming persistence.

The pool was busy.

You don’t say.

This is why we swim #lidolove

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I ended up in a lane full of rubber boys.

All the gear, no idea etc.

Not quite.

They were around fifteen years younger than me yet only had one stroke advantage in a 55 yard length.

I let a couple through, but then got frustrated having water kicked in my face with their lack of pace.

I pushed on and swam with the pack.

The past week has seen me existing on tea and love, and not much else.

My sleep patterns are f-ed with the election fall out.

I panicked on the 14th length, sensing my heart going a little BONKERS as I chased rubber.

Listen to your body Jase, not your mind.

I called it quits.

Back in Sunny Stockwell and the next chore was to tackle the front garden bush – that’s not technically ours.

No other f-er will maintain it.

I quite enjoy messing around with chainsaws.

Once again it was a case of make hay whilst the sun doesn’t shine. The front of the Stockwell flat becomes a sauna after midday. I chopped away with a rather slick finish.

It was all finished before Anna made an appearance.

Back at South Lambeth Road. With Anna. Blimey

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Well I never.

Our Transpontine / Estuary Wilds joint existence became one.

We headed back to Dorset Road for a little business.

Dream Team back together at Dorset Road. Blimey #SW8

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It was WERID being back there together.

And then it was a rare his ‘n’ hers day out on the piss in the Pavilion with the ‘rrey.

So yeah. On the piss in the Pavilion. Oh Lordy #3feathers

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t20 Tony made an appearance mid-afternoon. I did well to avoid becoming dragged into the BOOZE fest that followed.

I’ve seen all four days of the Championship match Vs Worcestershire – albeit the first day spent behind closed doors with the Lambeth Election count.

Shortly before 5pm both teams shook hands, accepting that a result wasn’t going to happen.

Long Live Four Day Cricket, Comrades.

Back at the flat and it was all about the Dulwich.

Following a play-off final via the medium of Twitter is bloody hard work.

But football. Bloody hell, etc.

The smell of Little Porto soon entered the flat with fishy BBQ’s from all around wafting in.

It put our Lidl quiche to shame.

I had no time to settle.

With Anna staking out her claim in S Ldn then it must mean that I was due back *over there*

Oh dear, etc.

I cycled off to Liverpool Street, and then back to the Estuary Wilds, and back to the cats.

More work shifts with the telly client took me through to bedtime.

Back to this #WeirdWiv #wisteria

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