Aches and pains to start a miserable Bank Holiday Monday weather wise.
I have been considering a bonkers idea of a 100 runs in 100 days.
I fell out of bed on Monday morning, such was the rickety nature of my joints from the run on Sunday.
But when you fall off a horse, the best thing to do is to get back on again.
And so I went for a run again.
The bloody weather didn't allow for much else.
A bit of weather watching throughout the past few days led me to pick up plenty of work shifts for the day. If I'm staying indoors then I might as well be earning.
In-between work shifts and the annual chore that is the tax return took up most of my time.
Anna is getting creative with her accounting. It's all above board, but she is finding hidden tax breaks that have previously passed us by.
I then tried to finish off the first draft of my Vice piece on festival cricket. It's a little rough; it's just not right.
I can't quite find the angle in which to pitch it on. I'll submit it, all the same.
We went out for the briefest of Bank Holiday walks late in the afternoon - to the train station and back.
It was the back bit that I didn't really like.
A little more work pitching, and then we settled down to watch the t20 game in full, recorded from earlier.
A damp run to start off a wet Sunday morning.
I slipped out of the house, leaving sleeping parents, a wife and a cat.
I could have just kept on running...
It was a decent run. I'm back in the Brockwell Park Run next Saturday after a six week absence.
Madam Pacemaker will be waiting.
The sleeping parents and sleeping wife then awoke. We all went out for a wood and Quayside walk.
The Colne was heavy, yet still. My legs felt the same.
And then a trip into Colchester for the Free Festival.
There was far too much to try and capture. I resolved to just wander around and try and photograph anything that took my fancy.
It was great catching up with some old friends who I should really see more often.
Sunday evening was spent trying to work out if the Stockwell flat has been flooded or not.
We're still none the wiser.
It ended with The Libertines live at Reading.
A 7am work shift to start the Bank Holiday weekend.
It was by choice, and was actually rather pleasant.
The fall out from the problems of Friday kept me busy for the remainder of the morning.
My soundtrack of choice was Marvin's Troubled Man. This wasn't deliberate.
The work shifts finished at 11am - my signal to head for a swim.
I was greeted by Rick Astley at the pool.
Not a pleasant experience.
I managed to swim underwater from one end of the pool to the other to drown out the drones of Rick.
I reached the other end, emerged for some air, and he was still banging on about never turning around and deserting you.
A quick dash back to base to meet the parents.
This wasn't a comedy movie.
But then again.
Some luncheon, and then we bused it to Brightlingsea.
The plan was for a ferry across the Mersea. But then it started to bloody rain and so we wimped out.
A brief walk along Brightlingsea beach [arf] followed. The lido looked particularly fallow in the fag end days of August.
I had plans for an evening of t20 finals action. But I was dragged out for a bloody meal.
A returning Anna from South London VERY early started off Friday morning.
She delivered Transpontine gifts, such as cheapo Lidl CHEESE.
I slipped out for a swim.
I had a lane to myself, with the aqua aerobics taking place on the other side of the lane rope.
It was slightly weird having an ex-work colleague from almost 30 years ago back in the Fair City, now dancing about in the same pool in a converted gas showroom.
But morning, Madam
Late Junction attempted to soothe me into the working morning.
A most delightful, original piece of solo piano playing was simply beautiful. I observed the unique arrangement, and wondered at such an enchanting piece of new music.
"That was a cover of the Beatles Help"
Work then became manic.
I can't really talk about specific clients, but one of them had a VERY BAD DAY at the office today.
I fought it off with some Greensleeves samplers, Vol 1 through to Vol 3.
A surprise new work opportunity came along around luncheon.
Job's a good 'un, as ever.
And then there was first utility.
I've finally managed to escape the clutches of the hapless utility company.
It will come as no surprise to learn that first utility is not a work client.
But wait! What's this?
Yet another bill from a company that I now have absolutely nothing to do with.
A quick flick through of my phone reveals that first utility is my most popular contact.
I live a shallow existence.
Work tools were downed early evening. I had just enough daylight for a quick garden tidy up ahead of weekend visitations.
It was all very exciting - I got to use the garden rake for the first time this season.
Anna and I disappeared for a brief Quayside walk, ahead of another hour of work back at base.
And then finally a bit of women's t20 actions, and DARTS.
Work, homegrown tomatoes and Surrey cricket.
That was a fiddly, techie, frustrating day of work.
It started first thing, and didn't really let off.
Part of the problem was security. I spent most of the morning trying to set up and access various secure client sites and logins, only leading to more tech hoops to try and jump through.
An invitation to attend an 'Innovation Lab Hub' didn't really help.
Ta for the invite, but as ever with these Third Way work twaddle initiatives, most of us are... working when you set them up for an afternoon jolly.
Pay to play down at the coal face, Comrade.
Barnsley Vs Everton livened up the evening.
Plus a FaceTime chat with Anna.
The mad cat somehow stole the show.
An aching swim to start off Tuesday morning.
I always feel fantastic immediately after a run, but then the following morning and my legs start to fail. This was the case for Tuesday.
My lovely neighbour was in the adjacent lane.
It wasn't as awkward as it could have been. Pleasantries were swapped. We both pressed on with the lengths.
Back at base and the bloody Labour leadership contest greeted me as I tired to enjoy my Bran Flakes with 5Live.
Like a fool I listened for the full hour and a half.
A pleasant working day followed.
I was back on projects that I haven't touched since the start of the summer. A lot of time was spent reading up on policy.
There wasn't much happening on the soundtrack front. I had another play through of the new Stone Foundation album, and that was about it.
Conversations with the mad cat broke up the work silence.
The first school work of the new term dropped late afternoon. I haven't even got round to buying my new school shirts yet.
Stop / start Royal London Cup action at Trent Bridge gave me a chance to catch up with the Test highlights and La Vuelta.
And then to complete a rather miserable Tuesday - a second rejection from the Labour party, for apparently not supporting the aims and values of the party over the past 30 years.
I only applied once for supporter status.
A run to kick start the week.
That felt better.
Now get back to bloody work.
But a bit of gardening first. The rain was coming. I had 'things' to pull up.
Job's a good 'un.
I then settled down for the working day with a fresh pile of tunes to get through.
I've only just discovered the Dread Meets Greensleeves collection by Don Letts.
I absolutely LOVE this period in reggae music; pre-dancehall, yet defiantly very British.
The new Stone Foundation album was up next as the working morning became the afternoon.
I'm hopeful of seeing them at the Jazz Cafe in October.
The rain came, then went.
The mad cat chose to sleep next to Anna and the desk from the Raj / Colchester. I don't think that either of them appreciated my Don Letts heavy basslines.
And then another chuffing call to first utility. I am no longer a customer, yet still the hour long phone calls persist.
When will I ever rid myself of the company?
More work, more rain, and then a BIGGIE BBuzz piece for tomorrow.
The Arsenal Vs Liverpool fixture as ever failed to live up to expectations.
A rather windy Wifey Weekend Roll Out to start off Sunday morning.
Anna had silly golfing commitments later in the day, and so this was always going to be a brief bike ride.
We settled on the Bobby George route, right past the Great Man's rather charming house.
After the sedate cycle ride to the beach yesterday, this was something of a full on sprint of a ride.
I felt strong on the run in and was on for a PR on the School Road Sprint Stretch at Elmstead.
By 2 seconds.
We saw another pair of riders during the final run in.
"Let's HAVE THEM!"
They were a bunch of cycle tourers.
I went straight from the ride and into the water.
A decent swim.
Operation Garden lasted all of ten minutes, thanks to the rain. I was rather pleased.
It gave me the chance to catch the tail end of the England innings in the Ashes.
A bittersweet defeat.
I had a couple of hours of work commitments, and then METROKNOBBERS with Darryl.
No surprises that I spoke about my apparent lack of Labour values, despite having supported and voted for the party for the past 30 years.
A Wifey Weekend Roll Out to start the weekend.
All the way to Walton as well.
I went on the tourer, rather than the roadie. No real reason, apart from not really being up for a technical ride.
It also wasn't exactly pacy. Anna was on her hybrid. We averaged just over 21 kmh for the run in to the beach.
Walton was absolutely LOVELY.
Bruncheon (yeah, yeah) was taken at our fave cliffside cafe.
Two large mugs of tea, carrot cake and a cornflake cake - and still change out of a grubby fiver.
The tide was just starting to come back in, and so we decided to make the most of the expanses of Essex golden sand.
We both fell asleep.
A slight paddle did follow, but only really to freshen up.
We both wimped out of the ride back to base and took the train instead.
A quick turn around, and then the optimistic shout of "TO THE CANOES!" went out.
For once we timed it just right.
High water was around 5:30pm. We floated out all the way with the incoming tide, making it as far as the mill in Colchester.
We actually peaked a little too soon.
The idea was to be washed back ashore as the tide turned. We had to hang around a bit before this could happen.
Saturday evening was spent with Test highlights, Football League catch ups and a surprisingly booze free few hours.
Stuart Pearce legs for the cycle ride to the pool this morning.
My right thigh has absolutely ballooned. It looks bloody impressive. All I need to do now is to find another bee to sting my other leg.
The swim was crap.
Two in the lane, and then in wades a third swimmer, with absolutely no understanding or care about swimming etiquette in a converted gas show room of a pool.
I left in protest after 30 lengths.
A brief B & Q trip followed on the way home.
I absolutely LOVE it in there, in the same way that I use to love record shops.
My purchase for Friday morning was a top of the range toilet seat.
Weirdly this is the fourth that we have bought in four years. Long story, and not as straight forward as it might seem.
Some more fall out from the bloody Labour Purge followed for the rest of the morning.
I tried to get my head down and crack on with the work.
And then Chris Tremlett.
Work drifted into the evening, and then the end of the day.
No worries. It's all good - pay to play, and I intend to bloody play over the weekend.
Darts / booze / YEAH.
An early morning email telling me that I "don't hold Labour party values."
Whose Labour party values?
Which led to Kate Hoey.
My local MP is ACE. She does everything that a local MP should be doing - y'know, sticking up for her constituents.
I pressed on with work.
Is that a Labour party value?
The bee sting from yesterday is creeping ever upwards towards where I really don't want it to.
I have avoided rubbing it so far. If it reaches that critical part of my middle torso, then it could get a little awkward.
Work and wondering what next after the Great Labour Purge took up the rest of the day.
And then cricket highlights with the returning Anna.
Another bloody sting by a bastard bee whilst cycling to the pool this morning.
Lycra is no resistance to the little buggers.
I'm getting use to the sensation now. The actual act of stinging doesn't hurt; it's the throbbing over the coming days that I'm concerned about.
Wednesday's sting was 'towards the top of my thigh.'
That's the polite way of putting it.
Last time I was stung the THROBBING leaked out around a 5cm radius. If this has happens this time then I'm in for a sore and sensitive few days.
The swim itself was a sedate affair. An empty pool, but I could feel the energy being sapped out of me by the bloody sting.
Oh woe is me, etc.
It was straight outta the pool, and straight into the barber's chair.
I winced during the bloody haircut as well.
A nice surprise was waiting for me back at base - a long-sleeved classic club cycling top from some obscure German cycling club.
I blagged it on eBay over the weekend for £1, and then forgot about it.
Not a bad day.
A bit of pitching followed.
Just give me the bloody money, etc.
Plus I started to organise a few thoughts for a Vice commission.
I resolved to just bloody write it.
I confess to some science fiction viewing for Wednesday evening.
Let's leave it at that.
Plumbing problems to start off Tuesday.
Our shower hasn't ben working for two weeks. Don't judge us - that's what the swimming pool membership is for.
I finally got round to organising Mr Plumber to de-plumb me this morning.
I was convinced that the pump was knackered. It just wasn't kicking in.
Mr Plumber looked at the shower head, saw what a state it was in and said: yep, BINGO.
It turns out that it was so full of limescale crap that the pump had given up the will to live.
A quick clean of the head, and then soon I was able to give my own head a clean.
And then a bit of a weird working day.
A few unexpected changes (change is good, etc - right...) and some work on a project that I haven't touched for some time.
The rain was relentless.
I only managed to leave the house to buy some milk.
The mad cat sat with me all afternoon at the desk from the Raj / Colchester.
What a sweet little thing.
Early evening saw a little planning around a Surrey QF in the Royal London Cup for next week.
And then some general admin catch ups with half an eye on the Man Utd match.
There were three in the bed and the little one said:
"Shove off, pal. Get out of our swimming lane."
Of course I was far too polite to suggest this on Monday morning. But it did annoy me how the fast lane designed for two was gatecrashed by a bloke who was doing the doggy paddle.
Local pool etiquette is take some time out in the spa and wait for the space.
In the end my swimming partner felt threatened sufficiently to give in and go.
Some swims are better than others.
Work was the usual stop / start.
Mid-morning was the first watering of the garden using the water butt since the spring months.
A heavy rainfall over the weekend has got my butt close to bursting.
That felt better.
A new Dr Chin video dropped later in the afternoon.
It is absolutely infantile and immature. It is Made in Stockwell. I LOVE it.
Paul Young popped in for a chat with @RobertElms late in the afternoon.
Iron out the Rough Spots was the track of choice. I'd forgotten how soulful the No Parlez album is.
More work, some Surrey cricket listening, and WOH - Monday was gone.
Booze and the Liverpool Vs Bournemouth match brought it all to a close.
A chalk and cheese Sunday compared to the running around town of Saturday.
Instead Anna and I rolled out on an estuary wilds ride to Gawd knows where.
Anna actually knows where we went, but as I ever, I took her back wheel and went along for the ride.
I pumped up the tyres on our roadies to the PSI max before we set off. The lack of friction on rubber to road could certainly be felt.
It also made me slightly jittery about punctures. This was no time to be wearing white lycra shorts.
As has become something of a summer Sunday routine, we arrived back at base smelling, and then went about getting even stinkier with some gardening.
The green sticky thing down the side of the house is a BEAST. It needs containing now on a weekly basis.
And here's me thinking that we killed it off when we had Mr Roof Man round this time last year.
I then cycled off to the pool to get cleaned up.
As ever - disclaimer, disclaimer - I showered heavily before putting the lengths in.
I didn't really put the lengths in to be honest - only 20 for today.
I had to be at Colchester Art Centre for a bit of work with the always charming @snippetcuts.
This was the third Warm and Toasty Club of the year. My remit was to blog the arse out of it.
Having stumbled around slightly during the first show, I now know what I can and can't get away with at the Arts Centre.
We had a visit from the lovely, lovely fella from Transition Town Wivenhoe later in the evening.
He has lovingly repaired both of my Brompton bags, which I thought were ready for the bin.
I slipped him some notes for his kindness.
A good day.
That was a day.
The main aim was to transport a bloody huge framed London street map from over there back to the Sunny Stockwell flat.
We opted for the incredibly early train. It was an absolute breeze carrying the large frame across an empty London public transport network.
Or maybe not.
Anna had Lidl love to spread; I opted for a cheeky Lido swim instead.
It was LOVELY.
The water was absolutely perfect, although ever so slightly warm at 20 degrees.
I can't explain the science, but the impact of a heavy rain fall on Lake Brockwell brings out the freshness. You can cut through the water with an extra kick in your technique.
Sadly the Lidl / Lido balancing act meant that I only had time for ten lengths and a couple of Icicle conversation catch ups.
Ou est le Gai Pensionnaire?
A quick brush up back in Sunny Stockwell, and then we were Surrey Quays bounds.
All that I know of Surrey Quays is that I once watched the A Team on the back row of an empty cinema with a male work colleague at 10am one morning, plus Decathlon.
It was the latter that was of interest on Saturday.
Various cycling, swimming and running bits and bobs were crossed off the list.
I managed to lose Anna in the bloody golf department.
The white lycra cycling shorts were an ACE find. I've been after a pair for a couple of years now.
They bring out the best / worst in a rider.
They look great if you want to wave around the meat and two veg. The reverse look 'aint so good if you are having something of a 'panicky' ride.
But I bought them all the same.
Anna then dragged me one stop up to Canary Wharf.
I HATE everything about the area.
Except the new Crossrail Place garden.
It was adorable. I was surprised that it was on Anna's radar.
We spent half an hour enjoying all of the green action, and then settled down in the heart of corporate London to dive into a Lidl lunch.
It was everything that bloody Pop Brixton should have been.
We then headed out into town. On the agenda was the final weekend of the Summer Exhibition at the Royal Academy.
I'm kinda ashamed to say that Anna waved some fancy work reward scheme on her phone at the ticket desk, and we walked straight in.
It was a little overwhelming with so much art to try and take in.
In the end you are drawn to the big hitters.
The Harry Hill of Damien Hurst was amusing - or was it the other way around?
The day then became something of a clearing of the decks of all of the things that we have wanted to do around town for the past couple of months.
Sadly flat restoration / painting pains have taken up most of the spare time.
We headed up towards KX for a look around Granary Square. I've not really done the North London thing since my Guardian days.
The wild tales of regeneration that I have been hearing about lived up to the expectations.
My thoughts were that the green parts of the area have been purposely put in place ahead of the housing.
Build it and they will buy, etc.
We wandered up as far as the outdoor KX Pond. We were too late to try and organise a pair of swimming tickets. It wasn't quite my type of swimming experience to be honest.
And then the clock was counting down. The mad cat was waiting.
We headed back to over there.
That was a day.
A wet ride and a wet swim.
Full marks there for identifying the properties of water, if not being able to read a simple weather forecast.
I arrived at the pool dropping wet in lycra.
I stripped off, dived into a wet pool, towelled off and then put on wet lycra and got drenched yet again for the ride home.
The working day was another collision of a his 'n' hers from home.
I overheard Anna's corporate call and rolled my eyes.
I then looked at my screen at the task I was completing and thought... whoops.
If you can't beat 'em, etc.
Early evening saw something of a commotion in the garden. There was plenty of flapping and general chaos on the lawn.
Where's the mad cat?
The little KILLER had half-decapitated a baby thrush
The mother was going mental in a nearby tree.
We tried to save the poor bird by putting it out of reach of the mad cat and back with the mother.
I don't like to dwell on what the outcome was.
The mad cat is now GROUNDED.
Booze and yet more t20 cricket welcomed in the weekend.
The pool had a Dettol smell and taste to it on Thursday morning.
I didn't last long to be honest.
Forty lengths was your lot. And then an ASAP shower in the rush to avoid West Ham Wanker who wanted to unload his life's thoughts on Joey Barton upon me.
See ya, Fella.
Work wise was pretty intense with one of the clients rolling out an 'A' Level online campaign.
I'm not the world's greatest fan of marketing, but it was pretty clever stuff.
It kept me ticking over all day.
The estuary wilds weather was pretty... wild.
Sunshine one moment, and then thunderstorms the next.
I considered putting Anna's bloody chilli plants outside, y'know, to catch the sun, like.
And then whoops - the rain has toppled them over.
They remain in the kitchen, growing by the day and taking over any available space as we feel at one with nature as we're microwaving another meal.
Not that's it's a personal issue for me, you understand.
I pitched another piece to Vice magazine. 1,500 words is required. I could write 10,000 to be honest.
Anna returned from Transpontonia early evening.
I was already three bottles of BOOZE in with the second t20 quarter final.
A day when work got in the way of everything else.
No worries. I've got some pretty major outgoings coming up. Pay to play, etc.
The work itself was so so. I was switching between projects, almost every hour, on the hour.
I worked in silence all day, apart from a luncheon break catching up with Don Letts with Robert Elms.
The mad cat slept through most of the day.
I watched the first t20 quarter-final in the evening, and then caught the final 15 minutes of D***y being beaten by Portsmouth.
Happy, working days.
A 7am work shift.
It actually was OK.
Anna was running around from 6am packing her bags for South London.
I decamped to the desk from the Raj / Colchester, put on some Late Junction jazz and got my head down.
The morning swim was ACE. It never surprises me as to how much difference missing a day can change your performance.
I've had a clean sweep of 14 consecutive water bound mornings. My body is building up; exactly what for, I'm not entirely sure...
Some old fella starting gobbing out his guts on the showers.
Come back West Ham Wanker with you shower-time singing. All is forgiven.
Back at base and the morning harvest certainly delivered with around a dozen or so tomatoes ripening overnight.
The daily raspberry count is now down to a more manageable four.
I noticed that the first few leaves on the wisteria are starting to display a golden hue. We'll be back wearing school uniforms soon...
And then more work.
I'm quite enjoying it at the moment. I've picked up a couple of new clients, both of which have an ever-changing approach to policies and protocol.
I downed tools at a reasonable time, and then edited and published METROKNOBBERS.
I think it's one of our better hit and miss efforts. Darryl certainly knows his stuff. I can bluff with the best of them.
Early Tuesday evening was spent watching a BBC4 Fairport documentary that I recorded Gawd knows when.
I then fired up What We Did on Our Holidays in iTunes and fell in love with the album all over again.
The rest of the evening was spent with a little planning.
I've got another commission from Vice magazine. The ideas are there - they just need organising.
Monday started with a singing West Ham Wanker in the showers at the pool, and came to a close by eating Christmas cake.
Strange days, Comrades. Strange days.
As expected, Mr Wanker was on fine form after the away win at Arsenal. Despite my protests, he's still got me down as a Happy Hammer.
I had to recount the 1991 FA Cup Semi at Villa Park in great detail to convince him of my Trent End roots.
He broke into a chorus of Blowing Bubbles as he lathered up his pubes.
If it's a Monday then it means that it's a his 'n' hers working day from home.
As ever, I was shunted to the upstairs office. I overheard one of Anna's conference calls. I turned to look at my screen and thought - yep, my job's a good 'un.
Stop / start periods of the day were punctuated with ball-by-ball commentary of Surrey down the road at Castle Park.
Having attended the first three days of the Championship match, I was convinced that this game had a draw written all over it.
The disappointment of not seeing Surrey score the winning runs was just about compensated with the probable promotion that will now follow.
C'mon the 'rrey!
Various admin tasks were then checked off: returning the old BT hub, starting a new BT contract for the third time in less than a week, and answering a few Q's that have been put my way with regards a hyperlocal research paper.
I didn't have the heart to say that it's all a load of hairy bollocks.
Hyperlocal is dead.
Long live gentrilocals.
Speaking of which, I hooked up with @Darryl1974 early evening to record another Metroknobbers.
We were both on a roll.
The half hour became 45 minutes, and even then that was with me putting the brakes on things.
We spoke about the bloody Labour leadership.
I calmed down watching West Brom Vs Man City.
Another week, another Wifey Weekend Roll Out.
I was up for it, Anna wasn't.
We headed out towards Lawford, and then looped back. I had ambitions of continuing out towards the coast. But bloody gardening got in the way of this.
We both hacked away for a good couple of hours ahead of luncheon.
Gosh, it's a bloody mess.
That's a little harsh. The freshness of the early summer shoots have now started to show signs of early autumn decay.
It kinda sums up my own body right now.
We both agreed that a re-think is needed - garden, not body.
It all goes VERY green in August. We need a little more colour.
And so a morning of cycling and swimming and we were both STINKIN'
We cycled off to pool to clean up and splash about.
It was beautiful. No one else was around.
I paced Anna for 30 lengths, and then she wimped out. I breathed an understated, underwater sigh of relief.
Anna headed back to base for some work; I kept on cycling to Castle Park for the final session of the cricket.
After two intense tired and emotional days with the 'rrey, my body wasn't really ready for a third.
I did a brief photo walk, and then sat with the other 'rrey boys and had a couple of beers.
Sadly I can't make day 4 in the morning.
Sunday evening was bizarrely spent watching the Wings Rockshow concert.
Yer man Macca strummed up the first chords of Yesterday.
"I don't recognise this"
A swim, cricket in Castle Park, and then football and cricket back at home.
Plus plenty of BOOZE.
That just about sums up Saturday.
It's the WEIRD time of the year when the cricket and football seasons cross over. It is just WRONG.
I tried to ignore the football whilst knocking back the cheapo tinnies of Fosters whilst watching Surrey. But the blokes behind me kept on giving out the live scores.
Castle Park was GLORIOUS in the Sunny Colch sun. Surrey made a game of it as well late in the afternoon.
We had some train cock ups for the journey home.
Tired, emotional and over-heated.
It wasn't the best way to get rid of an all day hangover.
The Ashes highlights on TV helped, and then the slightly confused new Football League highlights package on C5.
A work in progress.
We're pondering Day 3 of the 'rrey in Castle Park tomorrow.
My body could do with a break to be honest.
A Billy Ocean day down at the pool.
I quite like yer man Billy, but not when I'm putting the lengths in.
When the going gets tough, etc.
Forty lengths. That was yer lot.
I then had some errands to run for Anna. A trip to the pharmacy, and then the Post Office.
What could go wrong?
Quite a lot out in the middle of bloody nowhere.
Delays led me to almost missing the social highlight of the week: Surrey away to Essex at Castle Park.
It was a bit of a mad scramble back at base to get organised. I threw some BOOZE into the cooler bag and then had a quick mouthwash.
Or was it the other way around?
I love festival cricket. Up close and personal with the players. Visible pantie lines ahoy!
BOOZE of course took over.
Updates for Saturday, Sunday and Monday should be much of the same.
I sobered up Friday night watching Forest lose to Brighton.