Friday started with expectations of staying put in Sunny Stockwell for the next week or so, but ending up back in the bloody Estuary Wilds.
The Buzz book-ish gyms piece was published first thing.
I have struggled for over two years now to understand the logic of turning public libraries into private gyms – all under the cloak of saving money.
They’re a very peculiar lot this Progress mob.
I cycled on to the lido for some purification in the waters of Lake Brockwell.
It was wonderful to have a brief catch up with Lido Martyn.
It is usually around this time of the season that he packs up his summer lido bag and returns to swim indoors.
But with a water temperature refusing to dip below fifteen degrees, Martyn is making the most of the balmy October weather.
It didn’t look too tropical at 7am, mind.
A blanket of mist hung over Brockwell.
This was the signal for me to have my first swim of the season wearing my hat.
A lame fourteen lengths were ticked off.
I was rather in awe of the backstroke boy who was putting in the lengths over in the adjacent lane.
Disaster almost struck in the gents.
The make up mirror had steamed up.
WHADDYAMEAN make up mirror?
I made myself appear as presentable as possible. This was the first day of wearing my full on new school uniform – polo shirt, fleece: I felt rather proud.
I cycled back through Brixton and on to a school day in SW9.
Some early morning handwriting with the Year 7 students put me to shame. I scribbled down in my pad some notes for later.
I knew that unless I typed them up within the hour, they would be unintelligible.
I attended a lively School Council meeting. It was a packed agenda with so many ideas coming from across all age groups.
The call came later in the afternoon that I needed to head back to the bloody Estuary Wilds.
Anna was staying up in the Lakes for a little longer; two very hungry cats were in need of attention.
I cycled through Elephant, en route to LS.
It reminded me of Friday evenings a quarter of a Century around these parts, spent mainly on the piss in the old Firkin pub.
It really is a different world, Jase.
I stopped at some lights outside Bank. Three fixies pulled up beside my Brompton.
They were heading towards Hackney, natch,
The train that I was booked on was bloody cancelled.
Eventually I boarded a later train.
Two thousand words from the school day were bashed out.
It could have been 2,500 if I could read my handwriting scribble.
In Cat News:
Daisy was waiting patiently for me by the garden gate.
OF COURE she was.
My Girl, etc.
There’s been no sign of Dotty.
But we’ve been here before…
I caught the second half of the Brighton Vs West Ham match, and then bed.
Funny old day.