Another morning of raspberries freshly picked from the garden for breakfast. Hunters and gatherers etc - all added to the not so ethical microwave porridge. A BATTING Day lay ahead; energy was needed.
The work schedule was slightly re-jigged. I had a surprise invite to pitch for a new project. I know my stuff, Comrades. I carefully explained what I will do, how I will do it, and more importantly, why it needs to be done.
And my price?
I then went outside to fix the washing line. Mr Productive, or what?
Bits of blogging from the Transpontine weekend were waiting to be caught up with. I offered a piece to the lovely Brixton Buzz. I was surprised - and rather pleased - to receive admin rights via return of email.
I'm not sure what type of content I will be sourcing for Brixton Buzz. Probably something around gentrification and the ever changing area. One thing's for certain - I'm not dragging my hairy arse back into Lambeth Town Hall anytime soon.
Work shifts followed, all completed with the BATTING Day commentary from the ace @surreycricket. You've got to feel for Rory Burns - 199, and then out during the final over before tea.
But well batted, Sir. Well batted.
Another micro break in the stop / start work shift pattern, and I found myself playing postman. The previous house owners still receive more mail than us. No worries - it gives me excuse to take a walk down by the Quayside where they now live.
As ever, I stumbled straight into a mid-afternoon Quayside piss up of poets.
Oh Lordy. Fine company though.
Work shifts, work shifts, work shifts, and then a late roll out with @pmmikes.
The subtext was a catch up about a future #hyperlocal project. The reality was that I was left puffing and panting as yer man dragged me around the Essex Badlands back lanes.
I was pleased with the 30 kmh average, although I note that Mike triggered off a 30 MPH flashing sign close to the sprint finish.
I recouped by sipping tea in the garden and looking lovingly at the wisteria.