A Spring start to Sunday.
The garden was looking gorgeous with random bulbs breaking out all over the place.
We blagged some cheapo fiver bag of bulbs late autumn. Anna scattered them around the garden in the same style I scatter sugar on my cornflakes.
The magic of Spring is not knowing where or when these will bloom.
It was a similar scene cycling off along the Trail for the swim.
The surface has now completely dried out and makes for an ACE ride.
Forty lengths, and then something quite remarkable happened: the racist UKIP spa was taken over as the Wivenhoe spa.
Talking about poetry and artisan bread made a decent change from the bloody foreigners chit chat.
I cycled back to base, passing Anna on the way en route to golf.
I has a brief burst of Sunday work shifts, some T20 to watch and then a spot of anarchic gardening.
More work later in the evening, and then some NBA to finish off the weekend.