I woke up with an urge to arse around at the Ironmonger Row Turkish baths all day. But sadly this has been closed for a number of years now, due to a fire.
My Sunday routine pre-Covid was a half marathon around the mean streets of S Ldn, and then as a reward, do bugger all at Old Street for the rest of the day.
It was quite a lifestyle.
I routinely check the Ironmonger Spa page to see if there are any updates.
BINGO! …for Sunday morning.
There is talk of the refurbishment being completed late January 2024. This will be the second time there has been a major tart up of the old Turkish bath.
The Gawblimey £10 days for mixing with cabbies, resting actors and some very entertaining old school Queens has sadly gone.
The last refurbishment introduced poncey features such as a bloody rainforest shower. The price was hiked up to £26 to reflect this.
I look forward to late January to see what is served up this time. Any excuse to do fuck all on a Sunday.
Robert Elms was painful listening. He had a guest who gave an excellent social history of the London chimney sweep. A Dick Van Dyke happy go lucky tale this was not.
We’re talking child labour, with Victorian kids as young as three being stuck up chimneys and left to die. It got grimmer with the Sunday morning revelation of boils growing on the bollocks of young boys, and then being hacked off with a rusty blade.
I crossed my legs and played some Pharoah Sanders instead.
Less painful was the reading of the latest Grumbler cricket email:
“In cricket, a regulator is needed more to keep the governing body in check. Teflon Tom Harrison and Colin Graves’ bullying through of the tournament-that-shall-not-be-named has split the domestic fanbase irrevocably.”
I fear that the healing process will be long and drawn out. There will be many victims along the way.
I muted my various Forest alerts, and then strolled off to the University once again to watch the Rebels. The Div 1 Mens team had an NBL Cup match against Solent.
Tip off was at 4pm - round about when FT would be blown at the London Stadium for the visit of Forest. I decided to record Forest and watch the basketball. Two for the price of one, etc.
Last season when Forest were away at West Ham, I made the mistake of watching the basketball AND listen to the Forest commentary. We got spanked 4-0. Rebels lost as well. I decided not to make the same mistake again.
The Rebels were wearing their rather smart all black vests. I suspect it was a case that the usual paint mess of a home kit was still in the wash after the home court win last night.
We had an another minute silence for the Armistice. That’s three that I’ve had to respect at various sporting events over the weekend.
I posted up some Insta content at the HT buzzer. A stray Forest image flickered into view on my phone. I saw smiling players, but no other detail.
Phew. That was close.
Rebels were strong for the second time in 24 hours. They couldn’t quite pull away from Solent, but they dominated all four quarters.
The crowd wasn’t as big as the Saturday night party. We had a little Dance Cam Fear as the big screen went hunting for victims to appear in front of everyone.
The final score of Rebels 91, Solent 80 was well deserved.
Rather than wait for a bus, I walked back to base. I came close to clocking up 10k steps for the first time since my operation.
And then it was all about Forest.
And BOOZE.
ffs Forest.