The changing rooms reeked of Dettol for the early morning swim.
It's probably best not to ask why.
Only 30 lengths this morning. I was on a mission to make it to the Town Hall for the Mayor Making bollocks.
I had to time it to perfection though.
Having decided to BOYCOTT (arf) all of the civic nonsense of fur gowns and wigs, I wanted to be in the chamber for the actual Full Council meeting itself.
My timing remains spot on, even if my fashion sense of LYCRA was slightly wonky for a Borough Council meeting.
It should have been a formality of a meet. Instead it was MESSY right from the start.
The Tories tried to take control of the Council. They hold the most seats, and so why not?
The bloody political careerists from the Cabinet with no Mandate somehow hung on for power.
I pedalled back to base on the tourer, pondering how BONKERS the poxy political games are.
I lost myself in an afternoon of work shifts and the new Weller album.
The mad cat was adorable as ever.
Roll, after roll, after roll.
All she wants is attention.
I gave the windows a bit of a clean ahead of dusk, and then started to plan for a week back in South London starting tomorrow.