Another early morning run out with the Parachute Regiment.
I was cycling along the Trail, the boys in Purple were being put through their paces by the Drill Master.
And quite some pace it was as well.
I didn't like to mess with them. I pulled over, and politely wished them a good morning.
It was also a good morning in the pool.
West Ham Wanker is back from his two week cruise.
"You're looking good"
...I praised him, as we both took off our clothes together.
"I should do. I've had a thousand f-ing shits since I've been back."
Funny old fella.
It wasn't such fun however in the pool itself.
A threesome in the fast lane.
I was the sandwich filler, caught in-between a butterfly girl and a leg heavy free-stroke fella.
Some swims are better than others.
The garden was watered back at base, and then all dried out once again only half an hour later.
I treated myself to the first estuary wilds strawberries of the season for breakfast. They were bloody lovely with my Bran Flakes.
A bit of significant Brixton Buzz action, and then it was heads down for the working day ahead.
I worked in complete silence all day. I got LOADS done.
With the summer solstice approaching, evenings are made for cycling.
I headed out on the road bike shortly after 7pm, safe in the knowledge that the lights weren't needed. I had a good two hours of daylight remaining.
If only the legs had two hours of solid riding left within.
A very, very sluggish ride, but I got around safely.
Tuesday came to a close catching up with the final stage highlights from the Dauphine.