Another Brockwell Park Run to start off Saturday morning.
I appear to have given up any hope of keeping up with Madam Pacemaker.
...which kinda makes the name redundant.
I did enjoy the run though. A steady first lap of Brockwell, and then I put my foot down for the second leg going up BMX Hill.
I even managed a sprint finish which drew a round of applause as I crossed the line.
I took a deep in take of breath, and tried not to throw up.
The final time of 23:50 was still almost three minutes off a PB. How I managed to set that original time I have no idea.
Lake Brockwell was the reward for the running.
It was BEAUTIFUL.
I was politely asked to move lanes mid-swim as the Windrush Tri boys were about to invade the water.
I obliged, only to swim past the rubber boys for the remainder of the swim.
The falling autumnal leaves are starting to fall in the water. It all adds to the appeal of the changing nature of a swim as the seasons pass over the lido.
I settled for a brisk 12 Brockwell lengths.
STUFF yer 2am partying and rock 'n' roll lifestyle. The lido is MY legal high.
I took off my goggles and treaded water for a minute or so, audibly laughing at the sheer love that is a lido swim.
I'll be hitting the booze later...
A quick dash back to Sunny Stockwell for some domestics, and then I had to be over there by luncheon.
I cycled off to Liverpool Street, stopping off at The Oval along the way.
I had the tip off the night before that the bulldozers were about to finish off the Peter May Stand.
twIt was with a sense of perfect timing that I arrived to capture it all on camera.
This is Transpontine social history.
I edited some photos during the train journey back to over there. I listened to Lou's New York album, inspired by an earlier tweet from a senior Cllr who really should know better.
I arrived back just in time to catch the final hour of the cricket.
Long live Test match cricket - the finest sport on the planet.
And then we had an afternoon tea romantic date.
Having stood Anna up for her birthday weekend in favour of watching Dulwich, I agreed to take the girl out to Wivenhoe House Hotel for high tea.
PROPER sarnies, and then a cake selection that was impossible to finish off.
Hurrah for the doggy bag to help us out over the coming days.
We went for a brief wander back around campus. We only manage this around once a year. There really is no reason to head back.
Not surprisingly we drifted into the SU Bar. We pondered a pint to watch the Arsenal match. But thought better and cycled back home to watch the second half with another cup of tea.
Saturday evening was spent catching up with Danny Baker's Cradle to the Grave.