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.