Up early for the lido opening time of 7:15am.
This is being pushed back as the S Ldn sunlight starts to have something of a lie in.
At a stretch then you could say that there was a slight frost on the ground. Not an Icicles frost, but certainly an autumnal smoking trace as I cycled along Stockwell Road.
It was a similar story at Lake Brockwell. The brilliant blue sky highlighted the colour clash as the leaves start to turn the colour of golden syrup.
It’s a mis-match of colour co-ordination.
I joined in the fun with a ridiculous pair of cycling tights and retro (WEIRD) cycling jersey.
My fashion faux pas continued with an AWOL swimming hat.
Technically it wasn’t needed; the water temperature was holding out at sixteen degrees. Fifteen is the tipping point for the rubber back up.
My head hurt for the first length or so.
I had a quick ten length dash. I had to be back in Sunny Stockwell for an 8am work shift.
Work tools were downed two hours later.
The cricket hamper was packed for the day.
Monday was then all about the final jolly of the season at the Home of Champions. I made the short walk over to The Oval for one last time this season.
The ‘rrey were at home to the bloody Essex slappers.
I headed up to the Peter May Garden for a day of nonsense.
It started in the gents with a f-off telly showing the Sky broadcast right above the urinals.
My delivery was almost on par with the Surrey batting ‘attack’ for the morning.
— Jason_Cobb (@Jason_Cobb) September 24, 2018
This was a woeful morning for the champions. All out after luncheon, and that championship feeling was a little diluted.
Champagne corks randomly popped around the ground. The Members’ bar had 2002 prices as a head nod to the last time we lifted the trophy.
Like a FOOL I remained sober throughout the day.
Some fella with a Sky camera came over to point it in the direction of the Peter May boys for some Oval ambience.
Cue a mass exodus as the duckers and divers took cover from their boss.
I had to leave before the close of play with some more work shifts scheduled for back in the flat.
Winter well, my friends. Winter well.
A school email dropped: Mr Ofsted is on his way.
GOOD LUCK, friends.
I had a couple of hours more work in the flat, and was then summoned back to the Estuary Wilds.