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.

LOADS happening.

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?

Last built: Sun, Jan 31, 2016 at 3:08 AM

By Jason A.Cobb, Friday, June 19, 2015 at 5:36 PM. We don't need no stinkin rock stars.