Le Gai Pensionnaire greeted me early at the lido on Sunday morning with the singing of one oh his arias in the showers.

Is this right?

Tuneful though le Gai Pensionnaire is, he wasn't doing wonders for my cider hangover.

I made some polite excuses and tried to dive away the fuzinees in the purified waters of Lake Brockwell.

It was a bit of a limp effort to be honest - only twelve lengths and that was your lot.

We've reached the time in the lido season where a slight chill remains once you have finished your swim. It's not sufficient to have a hairdryer down your Y-fronts, but I was in need of some warmth.

I found it poolside, post-swim with some of the other Icicles.

I then cycled back to Sunny Stockwell for some porridge.

I couldn't shake the haze of the hangover for the remainder of the morning. I thought that the lido swim would wash it away.

Nope.

I tried all sorts - a little concentration with a BBuzz catch up from Dulwich, some gardening, bloody press ups.

But nope.

There is no way to fast forward and forcefully remove a hangover.

Except not to drink in a Loughborough Junction Pop Up Cider bar the night before, perhaps.

Whoops.

The rest of the day was spent working on the Sunny Stockwell garden.

The lavender garden was ready to be harvested. I thought that it would be a simple task. Three hours later and I had dead-headed all of the lavenders.

My fingers have a beautiful fragrance about them.

Early evening was spent recording and editing METROKNOBBERS with Darryl.

And then some FaceTime with Anna.

Bloody knackered.

And still hungover.


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