I woke up in Sunny Stockwell on Sunday morning with a hangover and with Anna.
That's not happened for a long time.
Anna loved me and left, heading back to the estuary wilds.
I limped around the flat, trying to get my act together for a lovely lido hangover healer.
But soon it started to rain.
How about a run instead?
I invented a weird variation of my usual Transpontine trot, taking in Kennington Park, Clap'ham Common and the lovely Larkhall Park.
I thought that it might be around 16k.
Back at base and I discovered that it was only 12k.
At least I managed to leave the hangover somewhere around the mean streets of SW4.
A quick shower, some flat chores, and then I set out on a photo walk.
Time was tight, and I didn't really know where I wanted to go.
The overcast conditions weren't exactly ideal.
I ended up wandering towards the Battersea side of SW8, taking in a few estates, and then being thrown out along Wandsworth Road.
Once again: WOH.
I have been watching the developments around Nine Elms from the safety of the flat bedroom window.
I knew that the temporary Sainsbury's was long gone. I wasn't expecting the site to have already been cleared ahead of the new Nine Elms station.
Anna and I have a lengthy Vauxhall and Nine Elms photo walk lined up for next weekend. I didn't want to ruin the 'surprise' by taking too much of it in.
I then cycled off to Brixton to catch the Topcats having home court action at the Ruffhouse.
It was a scrappy, but entertaining game. The Topcats point guard was ejected in the fourth. I haven't seen that in a ball game for a while.
And then a dash across town, and a train back to over there.
Oh dear, etc.
Another Saturday morning, another Brockwell Park Run.
As ever, I just wasn't up for this.
Some polite words with Madam Pacemaker, and we then agreed to go our own way.
I decided to take it incredibly easy. The after effect of the Beer Festival from 48 hours earlier was still heavy within my system.
But then the gamekeeper turned poacher.
I found myself pacing another runner.
This all happens quite randomly. As you find your position in the pack, you become aware of any other runner that is more or less matching you.
Halfway round and my new companion let it slip that she was on for a PB if we kept up the same pace.
I guided her round - or was it the other way around? - and yep, a PB was clocked up for her, if not me.
I also intended to take it easy in the lido.
"The lifeguards only manage 15 minute shifts whilst it is so cold"
...remarked the lovely lido Reception person.
It was actually quite beautiful in there. The water temperature was back up to 8 degrees.
I managed 8 lengths to match. I was going to push for 10, but then I had a flashback to the Colchester Beer Festival 48 hours previous, collapsed in a corner and muttering some nonsense.
Luncheon was taken with Red Maz of Bal'ham.
We pondered bloody Pop Brixton, but then thought f-it. We're not kids anymore.
Instead we had a far more refined setting of the charming Vauxhall Tea Theatre.
Maz impressed me with the full breakfast; I was a little more laid back with a sausage sarnie - or cobb (two b's, as they put on the menu...)
Red Maz and I both had some time to spare.
We took a wander down to Vauxhall City Farm. Red Maz reminded me that she once ate a Guinea pig.
And then we kept on walking, down to The Oval to check out the progress on the new Peter May stand.
"This will be our Transpontine beer garden in three months time"
...I told Red Maz.
I think she was too busy eyeing up the builder's arse.
"To Transpontine del Curva!"
...came the shout shortly before 3pm.
The Dulwich were at home to f-knows who.
Actually it was Harrow.
It was most entertaining with 4-0 home win.
And then a rendez vouz with Anna in South London.
That's not what is expected.
We headed out towards Waterloo early evening for a night out with the old South Bank crowd that she did her PhD with.
It was LOVELY.
We are all becoming very old.
Saturday came to close with a rare night of sleeping with my wife.
If only all days were like this.
Another half-hearted swim to start the day.
A pitiful 30 lengths. My aching limbs just weren't up for it.
Some swims are better than others.
A bit of work back at base, and then I buggered off to South London.
With cooler box.
Our fridge has finally packed up in the flat. I'm working on Anna to buy another retro American 50's style fridge.
But for now, the cooler box is just about serving us.
More work, in what was something of a very, very bad day at the office for one of the clients.
I managed to escape late afternoon for a haircut with Rasheed underneath the Academy.
He even offered me something for the weekend.
A few domestic chores in the flat, and then I cycled off to Waterloo for Critical Mass.
I thought that it would be bitterly cold. It was actually quite pleasant out there.
The Mass went roughly up towards Camden, across to Paddington, over to the West End, and then South-ish.
I buggered off just before the South-ish.
A sun kissed swim to start the day.
Shame it was indoors.
Still, the estuary wilds sun penetrated through the glazing in the converted Essex gas showroom.
I'm not making this up. Honest.
My swimming companion was quite randomly a friend from back in the village.
I quit after 30 lengths when it became clear that she had the beating of me.
Work filled up the morning, and then...
I was free.
To make a knob of myself.
I was invited to judge [ha!] the Colchester Beer Festival.
The judging started at midday.
Add in the factor that I appear to have done bloody Dry January by mistake.
But boy. What a way to fall off the wagon.
I rolled up at the Arts Centre and was told that I was 'judging' Porters.
I have absolutely NO IDEA what Porters are.
Are they like Special Brew?
I was a little alarmed to see a jug of water at the judge's table.
A primer was soon served up by a man in a skirt.
Our host carefully explained the etiquette for judging beer.
Isn't it all about downing it in one?
The question was posed:
"Does it make you want to drink more?"
EVERY beer has that impact upon me.
Eight [I think?] Porters then followed.
It wasn't quite like the Pepsi Challenge, but I treated it as such.
I'll have THAT ONE over there, etc.
A brief look at the scores on the doors come the close, and whaddya know - my ratings went up as the beer consumption went up.
At least I was consistent.
Judging duty done, I then disappeared to soak up more BOOZE fest action.
Half an hour later and I was called back for round 2.
I wasn't expecting that.
Five hours later and I was done.
I set off on some drunken sports clothes shopping around Colchester.
At least I choose my moments.
I managed to sober up back at base before Anna returned from South London.
A late, late work shift brought Thursday to a close.
Late to bed and early to rise.
Which never makes for the best of swims.
But I had to get my head down as I had a work video call at 9.
It was a pitiful 20 lengths.
Ta for coming, etc.
West Ham Wanker tried to get me interested in a conversation about which 70's rock star would die next.
I wasn't playing. I had pubic hair to wash.
The video work training then followed. I think that we crossed three continents between the four of us.
As ever, not much that I can talk about here. But my work does appear to have collided head on with Anna's.
Which led to an early evening trip out to the JOYS of Sunny Colch and a CBC Cabinet meeting.
I became lost halfway through the agenda.
I made it home in time to catch the Everton match.
Anna FaceTime-ed at FT.
I let her down gently with the result.
She hung up on me.
The Postman Delivers... another f717 camera.
I now make it double figures for my f717 ownership.
Yeah, yeah - it's a false economy in buying the exact same model from over a decade ago when the current work horse is b0rked.
Plus it's not exactly doing much to improve my ahem photography skills.
But the f717 fits all my needs.
I can fire it up and capture Boy Y at school within seconds. It is also pretty powerful when it comes to walking the streets of SW8 / drifting along through the estuary wilds.
I paid £26 for the current model. I needed one in reserve after throwing camera No. 8 across the staffroom in SE21 a few weeks back.
I gave the new model a quick workout on Tuesday morning [it works] and then disappeared off for a swim.
I had a lane to myself and managed the required 40 lengths.
I was hopeful of a much needed haircut on the way back. Sadly my estuary wilds barber is still closed after flooding during the New Year period
Rasheed underneath Brixton Academy will get my custom in a couple of days time.
Some fairly light-ish work for Tuesday morning, some household crap, some more work, and then coming up with some ideas for a piece I have been asked to write for the local football club.
I heard all about 'mountain mapping' whilst with the Year 2 kids last week. This is now my preferred method for approaching any type of written work.
Once upon a time...
We had some Brixton Buzz messy legal business to unravel late in the afternoon. It's been an interesting past few days.
I watched the League Cup match on and off later in Tuesday evening, and then tried to capture the mad cat for the tumblr blog that I eventually went and set up.
There wasn't to be a happy ending.
Some hosting bills to pay to start the working week.
My host still remains good value for money and is incredibly robust.
I took the opportunity to look around at some of the archive files that I've still got hosted on an old domain.
Do I really need those?
So I backed up and deleted.
I also took the opportunity to archive away some old ahem Blogger blogs that are essentially dead.
I don't want to delete them, but seeing as though they haven't been updated in over seven years, there seemed little point in keeping them public.
I had some legwork to do chasing various bits of information here and there.
This involved composing a hand written letter. I was a little lost, to be honest.
And then I cracked on with some proper work.
The rest of the day was taken up with fiddly admin: booking a man to fix my alarm in the flat, chasing an AWOL FoI, clarification for a Buzz story, filing a Subject Access Request [gosh], failing to worm the cat, accepting that I need dental treatment, some banking bollocks and then a back up of all my sites.
That was hard work.
And so was listening to @MatchTalk on BBC Nottingham.
Monday came to similar themed close with lots of laughing at D***y County.
A cricket breakfast, carried out with some school work to catch up on from the fag end of last week.
Anna was tapping away at her corporate work bollocks.
I think I got the better deal.
We both disappeared together mid-morning for a swim.
I had vowed never to do this again.
Anna was wearing her nu tech watch thingy. It miraculously improves her swimming performance.
I plodded up and down the lanes.
We both arsed around a bit in the spa and sauna afterwards.
Anna worked out that she is a half decent swimmer because she has webbed feet.
I'm not joking.
We half-heartedly cycled towards town, hopeful of some random purchases from the architectural salvage yard [JUNK SHOP].
It was closed, of course.
Anna then went off in search of the Colchester otter.
I made an inappropriate joke about beaver patrol. It didn't go down very well.
I caught the second half of the Everton match, and then some anarchic gardening, before falling asleep watching the Arsenal game.
I spent a few hours doing some more photo editing of my archive snaps.
And then we finally caught up with The Rack Pack.
Snooker. Bloody hell, etc.
A sober start to Saturday.
I'm not 'doing' bloody Dry January, but by mistake I appear to have not touched a drop since the first few days of the year.
Um, chin chin etc.
And so hangover free and feeling fresh, I set off on the Brockwell Park Run.
This is something else that I seemed to have also had a period of abstention with.
I have had a run of unfortunate male bodily injuries over the past couple of months.
Not enough to keep my out of the water or off the bike, but I certainly wasn't ready for running.
But that changed on Saturday morning.
The Brockwell Park Run has become huge.
It's growing by the week.
I've not seen the figures, but I reckon we're coming close to 500 runners each week.
I half-heartedly looked out for Madam Pacemaker at the start.
Charming, charming company, but my fitness levels are no way near to keeping up with Madam Pacemaker right now.
There was a bunch start, which seemed to take all the way to the Cressingham Hill to sort itself out.
I had no ambitions for time. I did my thing, and was rather pleased with my final time of 24'10".
I've still no idea where that sub 22 min PB came from last year.
And then the lovely lido.
Time and tide has once again kept me away for the past fortnight.
But Saturday morning was all about the swim.
"If I don't do it then I have failed"
...I told Anna the night before.
...was the response.
Since my last swim the water has dipped from 10 degrees down to 4, and then back up again this morning to 5.
Five or below is when I start to get genuinely scared.
I slipped into the water, and thought mmm, this 'aint that bad.
The first length was swam pretty much on raw adrenaline.
I touched down at the shallow end, and my feet were the first to go.
I couldn't feel them.
Let's turn around and do it all over again.
The regular Icicles were talking of 5-6 lengths max.
I managed six, thought of a couple more, but then sense got the better of me.
And I didn't fail, either.
A quick cycle back to Sunny Stockwell for some flat chores, and then a cycle over to Liverpool Street, and then back to over there.
Oh dear, etc.
It was alright.
I had some Chronic crap to catch up on during the commute, plus I revisited Ziggy Stardust the Motion Picture on my iPod.
I haven't heard this in possibly three decades. I asked for the original double vinyl as a Christmas present when it first came out in 1984 (?)
I remember at the time that my Bowie entry point had been Let's Dance.
RCA cashed in on the rejuvenated Bowie cool and put out the Ziggy soundtrack.
I thought wtf is this at the time.
It didn't sound very much like Let's Dance.
It certainly livened up the train journey back to over there though.
The plan was for a quick turnaround with Anna and hit then hit BOOZE.
A pub crawl had been planned, ending up with a drunken audience viewing of some Shakespeare up at the University.
But we both felt a little puritanical and decided to give the booze a miss.
We cycled up in instead to watch Wivenhoe Town
It was a WEIRD fixture - a Cup tie in a competition where only teams in that particular league can enter.
Plus it was a Quarter Final, with Wivenhoe having only played one other match.
It was actually a very tight game against March Town.
0-0 at FT meant that the game went straight to penalties. Wivenhoe lost with the final pen being saved.
The West Ham Vs Man City match early evening back at base was nowhere near the same amount of fun.
I found out early evening that I had bought another F717 cam on eBay by mistake.
Having dropped my last model at a school a couple of weeks ago, I promoted by reserve model as the full time work horse.
I always like to have one in reserve.
£31 all in.
We caught up with trashy TV for the rest of the evening: Being Kevin Pietersen, Beckham's For the Love of the Game, random youtube videos...
A very early morning work shift, some brief Brixton Buzz action to catch up with, and then a run.
It was a slight change of route as well.
I didn't have time for the full Clap'ham circuit; lovely Larkhall Park is more like a trot around the garden to be honest.
And so I headed up the Clap'ham Road and once around Kennington Park.
Gotta say that it wasn't the most inspiring of routes.
I showered, and then... walked the route all over again as I headed over to a school day out in SE17.
I paused briefly along John Ruskin Street as a horse drawn funeral procession headed towards Camberwell.
You don't see these very often.
And then destination SE17.
I walked into the conclusion of Maths Week.
I missed the Clown earlier in the week with his mathematical balloons.
Boy Y greeted me early on:
"I know who you are. You were the clown!"
An OK school day, but I've had better.
I switched the usual Thursday to a Friday as the kids weren't in yesterday due to a local by-election.
My rhythm and pace for what I try and achieve was out of synch.
I struggled for over half an hour to try and print off some images using a Windows system.
My PC 'skills' are stuck in XP land.
A walk back to Sunny Stockwell, and then straight into more work shifts.
A mad dash for the train, not helped by the mad cat.
She's going to be on her own for 12 hours or so. I thought that I would be generous and set the heating to come on late afternoon.
Messing around with the bloody timer made me late.
There's a lesson there.
I was suited, but not quite booted for a SW9 school day.
My haste to leave the house meant that I didn't have time to tie up the laces on my DM's.
...as a yoof on the train commented.
He'll be carrying off the same look tomorrow morning.
It was a crisp, rural ride in.
I wouldn't tell Anna, but it did look rather beautiful.
And then the bicycle ride to Transpontonia, and talk of a trip up on the school roof for some snaps.
Don't mind if I do.
Boy Y asked the usual Q:
"How does the internet work?"
I'm ashamed to say that I have yet to give him a half decent answer.
"I didn't get much work done..."
I told Boy Y after a chatty lunchtime spent together.
"At leat you has fun"
The school day came to a close with the way that I like it: up on the rood and gazing out across Sunny Stockwell.
I was taking some photos of the new school building that continues to grow by the week.
I cycled down to Brixton on the way home to have a look in on the Bowie mural.
Rather than being a sombre affair, it was actually quite life-affirming. I bumped into an old school work colleague. We had a decent catch up.
And then back to Sunny Stockwell, a LIDL run, and an evening of editing and publishing school content.
Same again tomorrow.
Kinda hoping for rain to be honest.
I really don't fancy the lovely lido.
A perching pterodactyl scared the shit out of me during the short cycle en route for a swim on Wednesday morning.
I once had a very bad dream about being attacked by pterodactyls. I haven't really recovered to be honest.
On closer inspection, the estuary wilds pterodactyl turned out to be a cormorant.
I just don't trust those wings.
The swim was something of a solitary affair.
It was a rare morning where the crappy poolside music was gloriously silent.
Cometh the hour, cometh West Ham Wanker, f-ing and blinding at 8am.
I made the mistake of making eye contact. In return I had to listen to his Freudian theory, as delivered in a shower cubicle.
I made extra sure that I wasn't spending too much time on my bodily grooming routine.
Some work, pmq's for luncheon, more work.
And then some further fiddly school docs to edit, convert back and forth, and then publish.
It was a bit of a drag to be honest.
Escaping to... South London schools tomorrow.
The morning after the night before.
I didn't get to bed until 2am, working on something of a BIGGIE for Brixton Buzz.
I was up four hours later to see Anna off to South London, and then the wait until... the Buzz scoop could be published.
I knew that it would be a huge story the moment I opened up the first FoI file. The scale of the story doesn't match up though with the months of uncertainty that local traders in the Arches have had to endure.
And then... zap.
Twitter was bloody b0rked.
We held off the story from breakfast until mid-morning.
I think that it was just about worth it.
I disappeared off for a swim in-between the online outage.
Ouch - that was a sharp morning on the Trail.
There was only time for 30 lengths ahead of some morning work shifts.
Bulgarian translations weren't part of the bargain for the work today.
But yeah. Hurrah for the modern interweb.
A phone conversation all about delegates, Cllr's and possible clashes of interest followed.
@RobertElms was ACE as ever. He had two hours of chat all about the Isle of Dogs. He somehow made it much more interesting than it should sound.
And then he played You're the Best Thing, before declaring:
"How did anyone not like the Style Council?"
Some more work shifts, and some unexpected, positive news about a couple of clients.
I finally got round to finishing the mad gardening spree from late yesterday afternoon. I -re-potted a rather enthusiastic mint plant.
[Is this right?]
I played all three Bowie Nothing Has Changed albums once again throughout the evening. Disc 2 from Buddha of Suburbia to Wild is the Wind is winning it for me.
Yeah, yeah. I know.
I had a work assessment to complete before tomorrow.
Should have started it a lot earlier to be honest.
I finally managed to start work on my Dulwich flickr account just before heading off to bed.
I've promised the old school Rabble that I will set up a dedicated flickr account and upload the 4,000 snaps from down at the Dulwich back in the day.
I left my machine uploading overnight.
See you on the other side, Comrades.
Oh yeah - my butt has been frozen all day.
A speedy ride along the Trail for the morning swim.
I'm amazed as to how well it has dried out over the past few days.
I'm equally amazed that my MTB is entering its sixth estuary wilds winter, yet is somehow still serving as a means to an end.
That end is getting me to a swim each morning.
The means is an MTB that doesn't exactly receive any TLC from me.
Some cheeky f-er outside the pool shouted out:
"Clean yer bike, mate!"
NOT A CHANCE.
Back from the swim, and a His 'n' Hers working from home day with Anna.
Our work worlds collided.
We have suspected for some time now that this would be happening.
The response was to work in separate rooms, and no bedtime chat about the work.
I made the mistake of attempting to re-pot a cactus, just as the estuary wilds sun was setting.
Gardening in pitch darkness: it's the Nu Black.
The cactus seemed to survive. It's erect, which is all a young (ish) man can hope for.
But I was on a roll and wanted to be a scrubber.
Foolishly I attempted to scrub all of the garden pots of their green-ish winter goo - even though winter hasn't really started.
They all looked immaculately clean once I had finished.
It was absolute darkness outside.
Early evening was spent catching up with some Gilles Peterson, and then the JUBILANT Match Talk on BBC Nottingham.
I always kept the faith, Comrades.
A response to a pretty major FoI dropped late in the day.
The request initially went in back in March 2015. It was refused. I appealed, but the appeal was turned down.
I then approached the Information Commissioner, who very kindly agreed that it was a valid FoI request.
The result is 10MB zip drive stuffed full of documents that I now need to go through.
Catch Up Sunday.
It was meant to be all about a few odd jobs here and there, and then an afternoon watching football.
The odd jobs finally came to close around 9pm.
Phew. Rock 'n' Roll, etc.
A swim first though to start Sunday.
I've decided that I'm not going to swim with Anna again. Not unless she ditches her aquatic tech watch.
It's a curious chicken and egg situation - was it the watch that improved her speed, or her speed that led to the need to document all the data in digital form?
Either way, I can't live with her in the pool anymore.
I managed 50 lengths, but I reckon that she lapped me three times this morning.
A floating leaf passed my mouth and I gently blew it away with a short outburst of air.
I then realised that I wasn't at the lovely lido, but stuck indoors in a bloody Essex converted gas showroom of a pool.
The floating leaf was a skanky plaster.
Elsewhere around the pool and there was some weird rubber based spa party going on.
I decided not to investigate.
And then all the household crap kicked in.
Windows to wash, washing lines to hang, housework to complete.
How the chuff did it come to this?
Anna buggered off to play golf.
How the chuff did it come to this? etc.
Looking forward to returning to work tomorrow.
A run to start the weekend.
It just seemed like the moment was right - the estuary wilds sun, the hangover free feeling, some new (ish) tunes to listen to.
I've not been out pounding the mean streets of Weird Wiv since Christmas. A series of unfortunate bodily injuries have laid me up low.
Saturday was a slow one, but enjoyable all the same.
My soundtrack was Disc 2 of Bowie's Nothing Has Changed.
Predictable, I know.
I've been a little late in catching up with this. It completely passed me by when it was released just over a year ago.
I've only just realised that it is sequenced in reverse chronological order.
Back to Basics in reverse.
I rather like that.
I gravitated on Saturday morning from Absolute Beginners back down to Ashes to Ashes.
Everyone has their own Bowie entry points. This is pretty much mine as an early 80's yoof.
I'd forgotten had delicious some of those mid 80's singles are: This is Not America, Loving the Alien, and even Absolute Beginners, wish I LOVED at the time.
It got me around the Weird Wiv route with a smile on my face.
A quick clean up [I lie] and then we legged it to the Farmer's Market.
Apologies, but it was a little underwhelming.
The grand plan for a Jase Bake later in the evening was b0rked. There's not a lot you can do with just potatoes and carrots.
The BRILLIANT estuary wilds rays were too strong to ignore. We cycled off along the Trail, in search of a swim.
Anna managed to lap me twice in the water. She had her race face on, as well as her fancy new aquatic watch which counts every minor stat associated with a swim.
"I've just swam 1km of backstroke!"
...she declared as she left the water.
No she didn't. She managed 1km of crawl. Hew watch was upside down.
We caught the end of the Test match back at base.
Who needs Bell End anyway?
The plan was to go and watch Wivenhoe Town at home.
Hurrah for the modern interweb! A quick glance at Twitter told us that the match had been called off just before KO.
Once again the weather was too wonderful to ignore. Light was fading, but the wellies came out.
We went off on a random walk, which turned out to be the same as every other bloody walk around here.
I managed some hit and miss snaps.
Villa Vs L****er kept me busy early evening.
The potatoes were baked, but not as part of a bake.
We finished off Saturday catching up with Dectectorists. The Christmas special was an added surprise.
Anna made a joke about taking up detectoring.
I pretended not to hear her.
Anna returned to the estuary wilds early on Friday morning, via Amsterdam, via Sunny Stockwell.
She caught me cat napping - quite literally with the mad cat sleeping on my chest and trapping me.
A cricket breakfast and some morning work shifts followed.
Plus some slightly fiddly editing and publishing of school policy docs - 'cos you can never safeguard enough...
The fall out from Somerleyton Road last summer continued.
Some documents 'reached' [aha!] Brixton Buzz showing some of the continued lies that others have been making against us to high ranking Cllr's and officers.
But it is representatives from another organisation that has ended up with a criminal record following the Somerleyton Road situation, and not Brixton Buzz.
Anna particularly enjoyed the accusation that I was an anarchist.
Gis a cigarette, etc.
A little more work, a little more cricket.
And then I couldn't resist the call of the garden.
It was bloody gorgeous out there.
Not quite Speedo weather, but just enough rays to have the energy to carry out a bit of gardening.
Most of it was clipping away at anything that look half-dead.
This is actually a great time of year in the garden. You can picture what is to come over the spring months.
I then put my hand in some not very well concealed cat shit.
I had various work and play online chores to catch up with early evening.
I finally managed to find some files for Dread Meets Punk Rocker Vol 2.
That's the weekend sorted, then.
Friday finished with some TV catch ups with Anna.
The Decectorists, Brooker, and Catherine Tate.
Hit and miss.
A 7am work shift for a couple of hours.
These are getting better - daylight greeted me when I logged in from my tea drinking chair of choice.
It won't be long now until the first ball of the summer is bowled at The Oval...
Late Junction from the night before kept me company as I plodded along.
And then a swim.
Or maybe not.
I was all ready to leave the house, when the estuary wilds sun soon became sleet.
I 'aint taking my MTB on the trail in that kind of weather.
And so a bit of school work catching up, with half an eye on the cricket.
I took a few iPhone snaps of the mad cat who was rolling around and generally being a little silly.
I thought of setting up a cat tumblr and snapping a photo of her each day.
But then the last thing I need right now is more online daily chores.
Go with the moment, Jase.
Sorry, mad cat.
The weather didn't really pick up.
@RobertElms opened with Each and Everyone. It kinda fitted the mood.
In Cat Food News: One of the Pet Shop Girls delivered some early afternoon.
The mad cat has been fussy of late. We treated her to Co-op cheapo pick 'n' mix.
The mad cat suddenly became a food snob.
Back to the Pet Shop Girls special it is then.
And then I've no idea what really happened.
I had endless school content from last week to catch up with. It was something of an online fiddly chore to be honest.
I needed some tunes.
I started with Yello and The Race.
It all then went a little Gwen Guthrie, which led to Colonel Abrams and Phyllis Nelson.
Blimey - what the chuffers happened there?
The school work was published, and for the first time this week I had a smile on my face whilst listening to some music.
I should do it more often.
Thankfully I didn't get as far as Five Star.
Thursday night was all about NBA London.
Sadly I wasn't there.
Bloody mad cat.
I did watch it though.
It can't be long until we have a franchise in London, can it?
Crossed wires to start Wednesday.
I really shouldn't have spent the first half hour of the day trying to untangle the complex web of online feed connections.
Different work and play sites, different auto systems for social sharing.
How did I get into such a mess?
I managed to work out which site was using which tool to auto share.
Jetpack? ifttt? Um, Yahoo Pipes?
I think it is all now streamlined. I have resolved to never touch it all again.
My mind then turned towards something not so frustrating: work.
And that was Wednesday, more or less.
I caught up with Steel Pulse programme on Radio 4. And then the Liverpool Vs Arsenal match.
Football. Bloody hell, etc.
Another early start to see Anna off to South London, via Amsterdam.
Or is it the other way round?
I wasn't paying attention to be honest.
I was hoping that my f717 camera issue would resolve itself overnight.
It wouldn't fire up after a school day in SE21 yesterday.
No joy for Tuesday morning either.
That will teach me to throw my camera across the staffroom.
Thankfully I've already got a back up, having snaffled another f717 online over the summer months.
I fear that I am now in double figures for f717 ownership.
LOVE that camera.
A mid-morning call to my Dad.
I can't really go into the details, but it did feel like that '73 moment of father and son watching Starman for the first time on TOTP.
After the three hour Bowie-fest yesterday, @RobertElms simply played Life on Mars on Tuesday morning.
Online conversations with Anna about butts followed.
We are having issues with our over-flowing butt.
I picked up a run of unexpected work shifts to see me through all the way into the evening.
It was bloody cold out in the estuary wilds and I didn't fancy leaving the house after a week of running my arse around South London.
I caught up with some of the telly obits from last night.
Pull yourself together, Jase. Although there's no shame in that...
I foolishly played Hunky Dory, very loudly.
Nope. That's didn't exactly help.
I watched with increasing interest the Newcastle Vs Man Utd match later in the evening.
Football. Bloody hell, etc.
Plan A for Monday morning was for a lovely lido swim.
Except it was drizzling and so I didn't want to take the bicycle out.
Plan B was for a run.
But then the drizzle became a downpour.
I didn't have a Plan C, but the early morning Bowie news kinda kicked in with a default plan of action: an extra long shower, listening to some songs instead.
I only managed to see Bowie once. It was one of his downward spirals ahead of another unlikely return.
I was working at the Phoenix Festival in Stratford in 199? It was the final one before the festival plug was pulled.
I don't really remember too much about it. The set was more dirty D 'n' B Dave. Even the old songs had something of a junglist-lite re-working.
But what a man.
Squeaky clean from the shower, and pruned and proper with the beard, I bused it through Brixton en route to a school day in SE21.
Flowers and candles were starting to appear at the Brixton Bowie mural. The Ritzy staff were making sure that his name was up in lights for one final time.
And then came the BEST Bowie moment of the day, if that is even possible: a school assembly in a SEN school, where the first task was to blast out Heroes at full volume and see what happened.
The lovely, lovely kids were... heroes of course.
They probably hadn't heard of Bowie, but took the opportunity to dance, clap and smile.
That would be the kind of send off that I would want.
And then on to the work.
I struggled slightly with the tech.
I'm in need of an iPhone upgrade. My 5S is increasingly becoming full of school videos and audio by lunchtime.
That's my excuse for the upgrade anyway.
I'm not sure why, but I seemed to chase the working day.
I usually know by instinct where I should be in any given school, and what I should have achieved every half hour or so.
I just about managed to pull myself up come chucking out time.
And then I had to leg it down the road to Herne Hill station to head back over there, via Farringdon.
Oh dear, etc.
I finally got round to listening to the @RobertElms Best of 2015 during the journey. My To Download list doubled.
I've got Elms and Gary Kemp on Bowie to look forward to for tomorrow morning.
Back over there and most of the evening was spent catching up whilst I've been away. Catching up with Anna, catching up with household crap, catching up with the mad cat.
Anna asked later in the evening:
"Did someone famous die today?"
An early start to clear the decks.
You know what comes next: the LOVELY lido.
Saturday was an absolute breeze; for some reason I had a little trepidation for Sunday morning.
The water temperature had hardly moved - down .1 of degree to 7.7.
But hey - who's counting?
The lido early boys had already done there thing.
There is a definite before and after to the lido routine. You walk in to the gents a little sheepish. Those that have already put in the lengths are sky high.
Fifteen minutes later and you are the one that is insanely GRINNING at the latecomers.
I managed ten lengths for today. I could have pushed it for a couple more, but went on the side of caution.
All of the usual lido regulars dropped in at some stage. It was a very social morning.
I had some school work to finish back at base and so couldn't stick around for long.
I then tackled the South Lambeth Road garden.
Moss has appeared over the Christmas break. Plus the spring bulbs that Anna planted in October have gone BONKERS.
A quick bike clean, a window clean, and then I cycled off to SE1 for the New Bedford Rising exhibition in an arches lock up.
It was absolutely ACE.
I kinda knew what to expect, but the reality was all the more f-off pant wetting.
An added surprise was that Rockman Rock was there, working away on his latest art prank, and happy to talk with folk.
I was slightly star struck, but had a decent conversation with him about the figures and the process of creating the work.
I cycled back down to Brixton, hopeful of catching some basketball.
But I got my bloody timings all wrong.
The Topcats had tipped off at 2pm, and not 4pm when I arrived.
I had some flat housework to do, and then yet more school catching up ahead of the Monday.
Another half decent day.
That was a day.
I woke up on Saturday with intentions of tackling the Brockwell Park Run.
But my rather strange bodily injury that we don't talk about is still giving me a little bit of grief.
And so I wimped out.
I did manage a lovely lido swim though, along with the returning Swimmer crowd, 'fresh' from their morning of four outdoor swims in London, with a half marathon thrown in for good measure.
I was proud of my 12 lengths of Brockwell blue, completed just as a Transpontine rainbow started to appear over in Herne Hill.
I cycled back to Sunny Stockwell, ate some porridge, did some push-ups, yet still couldn't stop shivering.
I worked out that it was warmer outside than inside the flat. Two years in and we still haven't got round to installing the new radiators.
And so I went out for a walk instead.
It was my usual photo walk along Stockwell Road and through to Brixton.
It may sound boring, but the landscape is changing at such a pace. I like to capture these changes.
I had a pleasant surprise bumping into @brixtonalex. We had a charming chat.
I foolishly wandered into Pop Brixton.
THIS JUST IN: It's still bollocks, Comrades.
Far more enjoyable was the Black Cultural Archives. I deliberately gave the place a miss for the first year or so, waiting for it to bed down before passing an opinion.
The Black Georgian exhibition is simply stunning.
The level of detail in the story telling is incredible. For anyone who has an interest in radical social history, then the Black Cultural Archives is worth an hour at least of your tine.
And then I kept on walking.
All the way to Champion Hill.
The plan was to bus it over to Dulwich, but I think it was probably quicker to walk.
The game itself was ACE. The crowd was amazing.
A 2-0 home victory in front of 2,500 fans.
What the chuffers happened there?
I did a runner just before full time, Streatham bound from East Dulwich station.
The Redskins were at home against Cardiff. The ease of travelling from Champion Hill to Streatham via train was simply too good to turn down.
It was a cagey first period, and then the hockey game picked up.
A half-hearted attempt at a bench clearance almost broke out at the final buzzer.
I bussed it back to Sunny Stockwell, and had a loo through some of the photos captured whilst out and about.
That was a day.
More Wordpress woe - and resolutions - to start off Friday morning.
HAPPY WEEKEND, etc.
The b0rk-ness from late last night was resolved across two of my sites.
I'm still not entirely sure how. The front and back ends were both visible - it's just that accessing them via as established url's went a little wonky.
But yeah - back in business, and slightly nervous for each time that Wordpress rolls out an auto update.
I celebrated un-b0orking the b0rk-ness by cycling off to Lake Brockwell.
It was beautiful.
This was my first swim back at the waters of the lovely lido since the Christmas break. The temperature had finally managed to drop below 10 degrees to a comfortable 7.8.
That's more like it.
Half a length down the lido and my body had made up for the lost three weeks.
With perfect timing, the South London sun rose from the Tulse Hill end of the park, just as I splashed down at the end of the first length.
I confess to having a bit of a Brockwell moment...
Not for too long, mind.
I had travel tales to swap with le gai pensionnaire in the gents, and then had to do a runner to be back in SW9 for a school assembly.
It was another first day back since the break over in SW9.
It was reassuring to find that I seemed to just slip back into the routine.
Lunchtime was ACE.
Boy Y asked me if I get paid to play Connect 4 with him.
I think that he is paid to beat me each time to be honest.
And then I did some Gangnam dancing.
Which was nice.
I headed out east in the evening.
London Lions Vs L****er Riders in the BBL Trophy was on the agenda.
I rather enjoyed the occasion, although I do miss the London Towers terribly.
Isn't it a bloody schlep out to Stratford?
A very early auto warning from Wordpress that one of my sites was b0rked.
The day would end in a similar way.
I could bloody do without this on a day when I am running my arse around a South London school.
I sensibly decided to leave the early morning warning, get showered and dressed and make sure that I made the train.
I managed this, although the train didn't manage me.
A platform change at Colchester with the initial train now grounded; and then ten minutes sitting on a second stationary train, only to be told that the first train was now active once again.
And it was pissing it down in not so Sunny Colch.
All I want to do is to get back to South London, in oh so many ways...
I finally managed this, about half an hour behind schedule.
It was the first day back in SE17 for me for the new term.
It was lovely seeing friendly folk once again, but I just wanted to make up for lost time.
I just about got there by the end of the day.
The rain meant that I was foot loose and bicycle free.
I walked back to Sunny Stockwell.
And then I sat down for the evening to try and overcome the bloody Wordpress buggy bugs.
Oh yeah - they became plural.
I fixed the early morning problem with a bit of plugin tinkering.
But then I found out that two more sites are b0rked following the auto Wordpress update overnight.
In days gone by I would have tried (and failed) to find a solution until 3am.
Not so today.
Ignoring the first early morning bug worked.
I'm doing the same for the other two and sleeping on them.
Lovely lido tomorrow.
That should put me in a better mood.