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.