An early morning appearance for the short-sleeved lycra and fingerless gloves on the ride out to the pool.
"What a lovely day"
...commented West Ham Wanker.
"It was until I saw the bloody UKIP manifesto launch on the changing room TV," I replied.
"Oh I know," said Mr Wanker.
"If it was down to me then I would let the army take control."
Straight outta the pool, straight into the barber's chair.
I'm edging ever closer to a No. 1 all over as my mid-life hair continues to collapse around me.
A morning and afternoon of work shifts followed.
True to form, @RobertElms played Nina's Here Comes the Sun.
A single tear of happiness soon evaporated from my cheek.
Davina and the Vagabonds were the find for me last night on Later. I fired up Spotify and smiled all the way through the Sunshine album later in the working day.
The mad cat overheated mid-afternoon. It was the first time this year in which she needed fanning down.
I received a friendly bite for my troubles.
I escaped for an early evening midweek wobbler, just as the estuary wilds sun was starting to fade.
I'm starting to feel incredibly confident on the new road bike. I've got the measure of the handlebars, effortlessly switching from cruising to full on racing position.
I pushed the bike (and myself) to the absolute max. Both man and machine did half-decent.
I was all set for some good Strava data when I hit the Ardeligh / Elmstead run in.
I had about 6km of freshly laid gravel. The Essex approach to road maintenance is to literally layer some glue on the road, and then dump a truckload of gravel on top.
Cars find it freakish.
My road bike was all set for a cropper.
I slowed it right down. I even considered walking. Puncturing was a probability, not a possibility.
Somehow I made it out at the other end.
It was the most technical piece of riding that I have done outside of le velo.
There goes the Bobby George Ardeligh roll out route then for this summer.
I caught the cricket just in time for BELL END.