Another weak swim to start off Wednesday morning.
I was tired. I had little time. The bloody pool was full.
Lane etiquette had me relegated to the wrinklies side of the pool.
Twenty lengths, I made my excuses and went to shampoo my short and curlies.
West Ham Wanker was on Genesis Jukebox service in the showers.
"Name that tune!"
...he laughed as I lathered up my pubes.
"Is it You Can't Hurry Love?"
At least it shut him up.
I had work to do back home.
The mad cat wasn't playing though. Or rather she was.
Mad Hour was brought forward early. It must be something to do with the changing seasons.
I tapped away, trying to concentrate.
But the Mad Cat was on keyboard walking duties.
The luncheon period was taken up with some more work training.
Woh - that a lot of detail. All worthy as well.
Late period Madness was soundtrack for the afternoon shifts.
Michael Caine, One Better Day, Yesterday's Men - that's a fine run of singles. It defined my Thursday evenings with TOTP back in the day.
More work, some domestic duties, and then I buggered off down the road for an evening at the Colne Social Club.
Pool, darts, cheapo booze.
It was like being back in Johnno's garage during the summer of '85.