The bloody Garden Bridge conversation continued early on Tuesday morning.
It was the talk of the lido.
What is clear is that the folly of the foliage Thames crossing is attracting fierce criticism from traditional tree huggers.
This was the case last night at the Garden Bridge public meeting. The bloody Ramblers Association was in opposition.
And then on Tuesday morning and the lovely wishy washy lido lot were set against it as well.
I just about managed time for a swim in between all the chat.
Twelve lengths was the aim on a blustery transpontine morning.
The South London sun came out, just as I was about to leave the pool.
Eight more lenghts in the blue beauty of Lake Brockwell?
Don't mind if I do.
The garden bush was trimmed.
Work shifts, publishing the school content from yesterday and Surrey cricket commentary completed Tuesday afternoon and early evening.
I was then joined by a surprise guest to the flat who ended up sharing the bed with me.
Oh Hai, Wifey.
It was our first night together in London since 2010.
She still bloody snors.