Sunday 29th January, 2023

The BASTARD Bully Boy cat gave poor little Dotty a fright first thing on Sunday morning. We heard the CRASH BANG WHALLOP of the cat flat as Dotty dashed inside for refuge.

I’m sure the BASTARD Bully Boy cat from the other end of the garden is a charming fella; he’s certainly very handsome. But no one gets to mess my little Dotty up like that. I hope he wasn’t thinking rude thoughts.

I opened the back door and hissed at Mr BASTARD. He did a runner and tried to disappear underneath the shed. The fucker was so fat that he couldn’t make it.

We rolled out shortly afterwards on a His ‘n Hers Raleigh electric Weekend Estuary Wilds BONER. The predictable plan was to cycle my fave 40km loops circuit. Parts of the route are pretty hairy; others have lush empty lanes. I like the three loops that are painted on Strava.

The fields leaving Weird Wiv reeked of shit. Soon we were out rolling. I was cheered up by the sight of a field of Shetland Ponies that I haven’t seen before.

We both commented on how shitty the hedgerows are. Miles and miles of stretches have become the dumping ground for all sorts of crap. Cans, old car parts, used condoms. It was bleak. But blimey – who the fuck fly tips an old hot water bottle? That not going to biodegrade very well, is it?

The hairy part of the route had endless close pass incidents with arsehole motorists. The Sunday morning five finger shuffle returned.

40km later and we were back at base. I had a manic gardening session. The first daffs of the season are starting to poke through. They’re a little later this year – or maybe they have been stupidly early in recent years?

They date back to my first Estuary Wilds gardening binge when I bunged some bulbs in the ground back in 2010. Resilient, if a little plain.

We had time for wind-assisted game of wiff waff down at The Table of Dream. We both looked a sight playing elite sport wearing wellies. My focus has gone. I walked away having lost 5-2.

The next stop was the Old Grocery studio for the WivGigs fundraiser exhibition. N from the club has done a grand job in collecting and collating many different forms of art from members within the club. The aim for the weekend was to raise funds for our second boat.

I was asked to produce a slideshow of the hit and miss photos taken from inside the boat with my iPhone. They looked half decent on rotation on the big screen. No confirmation as yet, but the weekend worked out to be a great success for the club.

I buggered off back down to Sunny Stockwell mid-afternoon for a Transpontine holiday by mistake. I need to take time off from work before the end of the financial year. I bloody hate going away on holiday. A week back in SW8 doing my S Ldn thing will suit me fine.

I listened to one of the Jonesy’s Jukebox pods during the journey to LS. Steve had Danny Boyle and Craig Pearce as guests, discussing the Pistols Disney series. It was my TV highlight for last year. Steve Jones appears to be someone who has come out of the other end of the whole Pistols experience feeling contented and well adjusted.

It was a cold ride back down to Sunny Stockwell. Some geezer passed me on a roadie kitted out in CHPT3 racing gear. He was wearing the full on bib shorts and short sleeves racing jersey. The only thing that was missing was a pair of racing gloves. Brave, brave man. Brrrrr.

I knew I was back in Transpontonia when I heard the sound of the parakeets as I passed through the side of Kennington Park. I was back in the flat in time to catch a Sunny Stockwell Skies snap. These are now taking place later in the day. Spring is within our sights, Comrades.

To Streatham! …was the early evening shout. The Blackhawks had a home hockey game against Romford Junior Raiders. I cycled on the BTWIN, guided by my Velo Beeline. I thought I would try a quiet, backstreet route.


It was all going fine as the Beeline navigated me around Clap’ham. Ah – that’s an interesting route, I thought. Normally I head up Brixton Hill when cycling to Streatham.

Take a left turn here. OK, alright… Erm, it’s a little dark, Mr Beeline. Ah, that will be because I’m being directed right across an empty Tooting Common in the dark. I didn’t feel that safe.

I pressed on and soon reached the Ice Arena. It wasn’t the quickest of routes, taking 32 minutes door to door from SW8.

Streatham Ice Arena was BUZZING. I arrived just ahead of face off. I couldn’t find a seat. I ended up standing a little too close to the rather enthusiastic drummer lady.

I do miss the old Streatham rink. It was falling down and filthy. But it had so much history and heritage. The new rink is fantastic. It’s finding its own atmosphere and building its own culture for the team.

Redhawks played magnificently. The final score of 6-1 to the home team sounded about right. Scoring a one on one goal in hockey is very hard to do.

I cycled back through Brixton. It was a little nostalgic heading down Brixton Hill. This remains my fave part of London. There’s not a lot here tbh. But we have so many happy memories of living in SW2.

The return journey took 19 minutes. I won’t be heading towards Tooting Common in the dark again.