A chilled morning commute on the road bike. The optimistic short-sleeved lycra has reverted back to the full on lycra body armour. I look like a cyclist ready to enter battle.
I look rather SEXY.
The wind ruffled what is left of my hair as I rode down the big hill. It was quite a thrill. I made a mental note that it must be about time for that annual exercise in personal failure when I try and grow my hair once again.
Mrs Headphone Lady was once again already putting in the lengths ahead of me at the pool.
I just can't trust swimming wearing a pair of headphones and a waterproof mp3 device. Is that a waterproof guarantee?
Plus the solace of the early morning swim is all about having a clear head. I get fed plenty of oral nonsense throughout the working day. My swimming time is special. Special for me.
I noticed the return of Mr Frog in the front garden ahead of the morning shift. The silly cat is spending all hours out in the back searching for him.
Let sleeping flogs lie.
And so another day, another dollar.
I downed tools late-afternoon for some much needed hammock time. The estuary sun is creeping ever higher later in the day. My peak-hammock time is now roughly around 4pm.
I drifted asleep with Ansari charging in to bowl for Surrey. I awoke with Belinda Carlisle.
A 5pm work shift beckoned. I counted down my fag end hammock days by admiring the garden as I swayed back and forth. It looked almost as SEXY as me in my lycra.
A late work finish, but just enough light left in the day for a quick spin. The plan was simply to get around. As ever, Strava and the counting clock spurred me on to semi-greatness.
I was in the zone for all of two minutes along Fratting Road. I was then overtaken by a carbon kid crouched down on his tri-handlebars.
More garden watering duties as the estuary air chilled, and the long sleeve lycra appeared once again.
I'm too sexy for my shirt.