Plans for a swim on Wednesday morning were abandoned due to the bloody Estuary Wilds rain. I’m limited to which bicycles I can use right now. There’s no way I’m getting my Brompton wet for anyone, swim or no swim.
And so a run instead. I didn’t really feel up for it. I never really feel up for it. Just put on your Fores top and go and pound those mean streets of C07, Jase.
I did. The Forest top was something of a surprise. I’m finding long-lost Forest kits following the flat move that I had no idea I actually owned.
My clothing attire of choice this morning, I think, is more of a training top than any match day kit. It had the classic Umbro design, which I feel like I’ve earned as part of my birth rate after sticking with Forest during those mid to late 80s Trent End days.
The run itself was all about beating the rain. Twenty minutes later, my object had been achieved. It started to spit ever so slightly down by the quayside. This was my signal to get a shifty on.
The WFH fella down by the quayside was standing proud by his front window, as ever. He has the best work seat in the house. He stands in front of his screen most of the day, looking out and dreaming beyond the Estuary Wilds. Nice work if you can get it.