A swim, a haircut and a run of work shifts.
IN YER FACE, Tuesday.
The swim was extended by 10 lengths. 30 was always the aim. It felt rude to stop.
I said the same thing to my barber as the clippers tried to make sense of my WEIRD hair.
Something has gone VERY wrong over recent weeks.
If in doubt, ditch it.
Work then somehow carried me though the rest of the day.
Gilles Peterson was the musical food for thought.
I couldn't resist a run through of the Dexy's album early evening.
A bit of Brixton Buzz planning, and then some mad cat time.
Here she comes in now.