To Liverpool Street! …very early on Saturday morning. This was unplanned. I had some personal business to attend to back in the bloody Estuary Wilds. Plus hopefully a little fun.
The train passed through Chelmsford as the ParkRun stragglers were coming towards the end of the course. The train picked up day-trippers at each stop, all armed with beach accessories en route to Costa del Clacton.
A few admin tasks back at base. It looks like Dave Winer’s excellent R3 applet for linkblogging is b0Rked. Or more to the point, it’s fallen foul of relying on the Twitter eco system. This is a shame - it’s a great little app.
The personal business was taken care of. It left A and I walking from Highwoods back down to Sunny Colch. And boy - it was sunny. And very sticky.
We couldn’t be arsed to get a shifty on and make the planned train. And so instead we loaded up with cheapo ice cream from Aldi and sat down to TUCK IN at the splendour of Castle Park.
A little more time was killed with a brief charity shop run. I did well with Michael Kiwanuka, Dave Brubeck, Woody Guthrie and, erm Dire Straits. FOUR CD’s - two of them doubles - all for £4.
To the Table of Dreams! …mid-afternoon. This was a weird one. Some fella rocked up, stood about two metres away and watched us. I felt a little uneasy and was about to call it quits.
A asked if he would like a game. What followed was a very pleasant round robin mini-tournament.
We headed out for a Quayside walk. The ferry was doing brisk business back and forth to Rowhedge.
We kept on walking to the Sailing Club. It was Regatta Day. There was the rarity of the WSC flag flying proud. We hung around for a little while, catching up with various WivGigs members. The highlight was the recommendation to freeze bananas.
A did a Weird Wiv veg run to the house that sells all sorts from outside the front garden. Another bag of fresh apples was blagged, as well as the first courgettes of the season.
Glasto took up the Saturday evening entertainment. Third World were bloody brilliant. Generation Sex were ropey. Motorcycle Emptiness was a GREAT opener for the Manics.
