The morning after the Sleaford f-ing Mods the night before.
My head was still bangin’ from Nottingham’s finest.
I swear that I dreamt in chuffing profanities last night.
Time to sort my head out – or more to the point, my hair.
I had an early morning rendez vous with Rasheed underneath the Academy for a head shave.
We had a good laugh at the forty-five minutes it takes to carry out a number one all over back in the Estuary Wilds.
Less than five minutes later and I was leaving the Brixton barber chair.
I cycled on to the lovely lido in rather uninspiring conditions.
A Park Run pick-me-up would have been perfect; but there was no time ahead of the Brockwell Lido Users AGM.
I swam instead, putting in a strong sixteen lengths.
Entering the water ahead of the AGM is the BEST timing. I had a lane to myself in what was a slightly chilled Brockwell blue.
The water temperature had dipped to seventeen degrees overnight. We are nearing the fifteen degrees tipping point when rubber head-ware is needed.
A full on rubber boy tried in vain to open up the door of the outdoor sauna.
Come back in a couple of months when we are freezing our bollocks off, mate.
A quick shower, a croissant and coffee, and then I settled down for the AGM.
This should have been routine. It became very silly at the start with the breakaway swimming ‘club’ trying to disrupt the meeting.
Having failed to get ‘their’ slate of candidates elected, there was a couple of dramatic walkouts, which no one else really gave a shit about.
Which was a shame as the breakaway boys missed the opportunity to hold a constructive dialogue with Fusion, the custodians of our beautiful building.
My main fascination was the variances in the pronunciation of ‘lido.’
To lee-do or li-do?
It’s all about the swim, innit.
I couldn’t hang around until the end of the meeting. I had a luncheon work shift back in Sunny Stockwell
It was my first time back in the flat with rain since the gutter men came to fix the gutter.
And guess what?
It appears to have worked.
This may sound like a minor win – albeit at a major cost – but it is one that has taken over a year to coordinate.
Disputes over workmanship to the roof, diary dates, access to the basement flat garden – it’s all taken up my time for what should have been a quick fix.
My prayers for rain were answered. I needed a S Ldn downpour as the final test for the gutter fix.
The weather also meant that I abandoned my afternoon plans for a photo shoot around the Nu Vauxhall.
It’s depressing enough as it is with all the dystopia skyscrapers that seem to shoot up each week.
I’m keen to document them as regularly as possible though.
But not in the pissing rain.
A slight retreat in the rain followed mid-afternoon. I ventured out briefly to see the new Brian Barnes mural on the nearby Carey Gardens estate.
The brilliant new mural from Brian Barnes at Carey Gardens is the best. It has it all: Keith Moon as a traffic warden, the Power Station, Nu #Vauxhall, local lavenders, Wizard of Oz, Star Wars, Floyd’s flying pig, the US eagle landing in Battersea & Prof Stephen Hawkings #SW8 pic.twitter.com/z3DhL3MNKm
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) September 22, 2018
Brian has been documenting this patch in magnificent mural form for over fifty years now. Nuclear Dawn in Brixton and the Sunny Stockwell Memorial Gardens are his best work to date.
But the new Carey Gardens masterpiece comes close to topping these.
It is a brilliant observation of local life, tucked away in a community that is within touching distance of the Nu Vauxhall crap, yet far removed from the fantasy dystopia.
Brian knows his patch. This is reflected in the subject matter.
Carey Gardens has Keith Moon as a lollipop man – as was the case forty or so years ago right in the very heart of this community.
Plus a hat tip to the US eagle landing at the new Embassy, and a Power Station that is running out of time.
It is grand in its ambitions, yet still has the simplicity of street art. It is the best piece of art that have seen in many years.
It was worth getting a soaking on the short walk back to Sunny Stockwell.
Also getting wet was a peloton of Columbian hill climbers, locking up their bicycles outside the Duke of Cambridge.
Bloody LOVE living around here.
Work dominated the rest of the day. I picked up some late shifts from early evening through until bedtime.
I caught the boxing, struggling to keep my eyes open.
Bloody LOVE the boxing.