An empty lane for the morning swim. I made the most of the free space and experimented with my leg kicking.
Usually I swim tri-stlye - all arms and no legs.
But get this: kicking your legs makes you go a little faster.
I did manage to clear the adjacent lane with all of the splashing and general swimming un-etiquette. I'll stick with the torso for tomorrow.
A morning of work shifts followed. The desk from the Raj / Colchester has brought out the jazz snob in me.
The intention was always to discover my inner-jazz roots, work at a desk with a pen and ink, and drink red wine.
But Jase Hates Jazz.
It wasn't that bad. Django Reinhardt was pleasant enough company whilst Gilles Peterson is away. The Lambeth Walk was a lovely surprise.
Early afternoon was spent estuary shower dodging to get an odd spot of gardening ticked off.
I looked for signs of spring down the back passage, so to speak.
The big sticky green thing that we had to HACK down ahead of the roof job shows no sign of new growth.
It was a bit of a beast high summer to be honest. It will be a shame though if it has been killed off because of scaffolding.
RIP big sticky green thing.
A charity door knocker late afternoon didn't call at a very convenient time.
Work woes were being woeful.
He started his lengthy ramble.
"Let me interrupt you there. I DON'T GIVE TO CHARITY."
I didn't understand a word.
And so I made it all up.