There was a bloody butterfly boy in the lido first thing on Friday morning.
I think that it's more of a case of envy, rather than the splashing about.
Either way, he was making waves.
PLENTY of waves.
I paddled on through with a respectable twelve lengths of crawl.
The water is just starting to turn. Twenty degrees, and a slight cloudiness as the sun tan lotion and other assorted 'gunk' that the summer season swimmers bring to the lido.
It really is best no to think about it.
A bit of Friday morning frolics in the changing rooms, and then I made the short cycle back to Sunny Stockwell for a school day in SW9.
The achievements of some of the students in the London Youth Games are absolutely great. GOLD medals - the best in London.
Students who are sometimes shy stepped forward and asked me to record them talking about their achievements.
Another trouser compliment followed from another senior teacher.
Blimey - they were £4.99 from the charity shop.
A quick catch up with Anna back in the Sunny Stockwell flat, some garden watering, and then we both buggered off to The Oval for the t20 twaddle.
Surrey were set a steep run chase against Kent.
The inevitable late order collapse kicked in, just as the entire OCS stand appeared to fall over from booze.
I remained dry yet again.
I've got the Brockwell Park Run early tomorrow morning. All of this talk of PB's is just bollocks, but... y'know.
I found out later in the evening that my Vice piece on the Cult of the Derny Rider has been published.
I'm rather pleaded with the way that it looks.
A second consecutive night in bed with my wife in London ended Friday.
What the hell happened here?