Monday

Early morning acrobatics and dusting.

Blimey.

Anna declared that the spider webs at the top of the stairs needed brushing aside. It’s only taken us eight years.

Whoops.

But it’s a bloody tall ceiling in an old Victorian house.

The only solution was for me to use the large mop standing on the top stair, leaning down and with Anna having her arms around my waist to stop me falling.

I suspect this was the motive all along.

My productive streak continued.

Having snaffled a couple of cheapo LIDL cycling tops back in Sunny Stockwell, now was the time to sort out the old lycra draw.

There’s some hideous things in happening in there.

Dodgy eBay photos aren’t all that at the best of times. They are a disaster when it comes to the lycra look.

Half a dozen tops that have seen little to no action were retired – not to a Hall of Fame, but straight into the charity shop bag.

There.

That feels better.

Lovingly packed away in the loft though was a Brixton Cycles retro GOLD top. This dates back to 1997?

It’s seen better days, but really should be preserved as a piece of social history.

#WeirdWiv, innit

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I cycled on to the gym.

West Ham Wanker was buzzing about a pre-season match. It’s hard not to get caught up in his enthusiasm.

Fifteen minutes on the treadmill, and then the weights GRUNTING thing.

Work was pretty full on from mid-morning through to last thing at night.

We’ve got another major social sim session on Tuesday. A serious background reading session took place.

I had to abort a holiday by mistake in Norfolk.

Bus Replacement Service is not in my August Bank Holiday weekend vocabulary.

A little gardening late evening, Le Tour highlights and then bed.

Whacked.

Garden BALLS, innit

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