Sunday 5th March, 2023

An early morning eBay audit.

Exactly what have I got listed, and how does this match with the box displaying the sign: SELL THIS SHIT?

I have become the online Gerald Ratner.

It’s mostly CD duplicates, old cycling clothes, gig tickets, camera batteries and the odd cassette. Oh and a Rock Steady Crew album that is rather rare. Honest.

I cycled off to the pool in another attempt to escape the bloody church bells. All the bicycles are trapped behind the scaffolding. Apart from the Brompton and the di blasi.

Ah – the di blasi.

Let’s give this another spin. The Brompton got a little fucked in the shitty Estuary Wilds weather yesterday. I don’t really care about the di blasi.

But it would it stand the test? Would it transport me the 6km or so to the pool without falling apart?

Have clown bike, will travel.

I needn’t have worried. This was the furthest I have been on the bicycle that screams IMPULSE BUY. It was serviced after it arrived. My bicycle mechanic man assured me that it was safe.

Sort of.

It creaked slightly as I free wheeled down Boundary Road. Speeds of 40kmh are not uncommon on this stretch. I held back and had a very delicate descent.

The swim was functional. I clocked under seventeen minutes for the forty lengths. I had time to spare and so arsed around for almost an hour in the spa.

I had a charming chat with a woman who also works in SEN schools. We shared experiences and stories. She left me feeling that the young people she works with are in very safe hands.

I stopped off at the Sports Arena on the ride back to base. There was a double header volleyball session for the Rebels. The women and mens team had home court action.

I was waved in once again as Sports Arena Royalty. I think I was suppose to pay to gain entry. I’ve become something of a Rebels groupie of late.

Volleyball might make the top ten of sports that I enjoy watching. Let’s try and list them:




Ice Hockey

Track cycling

Road cycling



Oh – volleyball might pitch in round about here. So #9 then.

I’m starting to understand some of the finer points of the game. I didn’t realise that you can use your feet to return the ball.

Rebels had a fairly comfortable 3-0 home win.

The game finished with perfect timing ahead of the 2pm KO at The World Famous City Ground. I had cleared the decks and written off the rest of the day for watching Forest and getting pissed.

In the end I watched Forest and necked three mugs of steaming hot tea each half. Woh – that was nervy to watch. A point suits us more than Everton.

The daily eBay alerts threw up the entire Sleaford fucking Mods back catalogue on CD. I contacted the buyer and made an offer for the lot. I still haven’t heard back.

And then an offer came my way for the six foot plus cactus I’m trying to get rid of. I put in a a counter offer. Once again I’m waiting on the outcome.

A returned from a week away in Canada. BALLS to jet lag. There was still daylight and so I marched her down to the Table of Dreams.

We had to play with the high vis ball. The coldness seemed to add a little extra kick to the pace. I walked away losing 4-2.

The Transpontine holiday by mistake returns in the morning.