Something of a sandwich swim to start off Sunday morning down at the lovely lido.
I was mid-stream between a slowie and quickie in the fast lane.
I effortlessly caught up with the swimmer ahead, but then the same was true of me from Mr Speedy trying to take me from behind.
The result was that I was stuck between the two for a fair few strokes.
I've never felt claustrophobic in a pool before.
The natural law of swimming means that these minor inconveniences soon solve themselves. The state intervention of lane swimming dictates that everyone understands their role.
Hurrah for the ideology of swimming.
Twenty lengths was the aim.
It was another GLORIOUS Brockwell Blue morning. With a trip back to over there later in the day, this would probably be my final summer season swim in Lake Brockwell.
My mind was completely cleared. I started to think about how Surrey managed to not quite get over the line yesterday at Lord's.
I did the same thing myself, bailing out after 16 lengths.
Some charming Icicle chat then followed poolside.
The once a week activity of removing the lanes at the lido had just been set up.
The free market of swimming momentarily returned.
CHAOS resumed as swimmers were left in isolation, and not with the Comradely social appeal that state intervention allows.
Le Gai Pensionnaire looked like he was actually enjoying his new found freedom.
A leisurely cycle back to Sunny Stockwell, and then bloody flat chores had to be completed.
I did ponder disappearing and exploring Open House weekend. But my only bloody house / flat had to be put in order first.
A late afternoon cycle across town, and then I was on a train back to over there - just in time to give the garden over there a good seeing to.
Just in time to see Anna as well before she buggered off to South London.
Modern Life is Rubbish, etc.
I had some work preparation late Sunday to complete ahead of a pretty big day ahead on Monday.
And then finally This is England.