Cursed the three stroke man in the pool.
I have a relatively elegant freestyle stroke. I have high arms and a trailing technique for my legs.
I have been complimented before on my total emersion style of swimming.
But cursed the three stroke man in the pool.
I just can't pull off three strokes underwater, and then rotate each side for air.
Bloody three stroke man in the pool was carrying it off to perfection on Monday morning.
I left after 40 lengths in protest.
The remainder of Monday was spent with new work projects and falling out with the mad cat.
It's that time of the month again: worming.
I caught her good and proper right on the back of the neck.
She did a runner underneath the shed and didn't talk to me for the rest of the day.
At least I managed to get some work done.
The mad cat re-emerged late in the day whilst I was doing a bit of a garden tidy up.
She asked for food, cleared her plate and then disappeared again.
It's been bloody wet out in the garden for the past three days. Everything seems to have shot up by a couple of inches.
I spent two very pleasant hours pulling and pushing things back into place.
My iPod company for the session was South London Hardcore.
What happened there?
I'm a bit behind with my listening, but I was upset to hear that Steve and Jack are going on a Transpontine sabbatical.
My entire South London knowledge over the past couple of years has been assembled via SLHC.
I hope that they are able to make a return some time in 2016.
Highlights for Monday evening included a brief FaceTime HELLOOOOO with Anna's Mum, and then finally catching up with Le Tour highlights from Sunday.