An early start on Saturday, transported away from the estuary wilds and back to the Fair City.
Family duties awaited at the other end of three train changes.
I arrived just in time to see Derby kick off at home to Norwich on TV.
I walked straight out of the family home and off to the local swimming pool.
This was a very different swimming experience on Saturday in what use to be very familiar surroundings.
I managed 50 lengths in the Keyworth Duck Pond, the pool that I first learned to swim in. I think I knew what I was doing.
The pool was so so - it was the showers and changing rooms that were wrong.
Fitting for a village swimming pool that I had to suffer the hideous village changing room experience.
Mixed showers, and so no short and curlies shampoo action.
And then a cubicle so small that you can't swing a decent pair of goggles in it.
The temperature in the 'village area' was hovering around 80 degrees. I felt like making my way back to the beauty of Brockwell ASAP.
I spent the afternoon publishing the content from SW9 collected on Friday.
I like to try and turn around school content as quickly as possible. But never underestimate the demands of life offline.
I was on a promise though in SW9, confirming that all of the ACE Christmas celebrations would be online by the end of the day.
Job's a good 'un.
A VERY good 'un.
favourite school, disclaimer, disclaimer...
I had just enough time to bash out what is hopefully the final Brixton Buzz piece on chuffing Lambeth Fireworks.
It's clear that the ticketed event is here to stay. The internal report that we ahem managed to gain access to shows that many improvements need to be made to win back the trust of residents.
And then late afternoon I found myself watching Forest against Dirty Leeds.
Give me a pint of Shipstones and it could have been 1988 all over again.
I wasn't foolish enough to actually attend the match. But a tea time TV kick off fitted in well with my Fair City theme for this weekend.
There was a similar retro feel for the evening entertainment. Back in the day it would have been an afternoon out at the City Ground, and then a mad drive in Johno's Love Waggon over the county border into the City of Death.
I found myself in L****er once again this evening to watch the mighty Diesel Park West, the only good thing to come out of the City of Death.
I usually prefer seeing DPW play in London. There's still a sense of extreme bitterness and antagonism for everything London. It brings out the best in the band.
But sadly their London trips are now less frequent. The safety of the home turf in the City of Death takes a slight edge off the band.
But it was an ACE night, back in the company of the crowd that I use to run with.
I managed to swipe a setlist at the end to add to the almost three figure [OUCH] collection of DPW set lists that I have picked up over the years.
Anyone ever tried running a half-marathon whilst still slightly tired and emotional from the night before?
I'm about to find out tomorrow morning.