And I didn’t even add the clickbait Wankerville to the title.

I had to leave the flat on Saturday afternoon. Have For Sale sign, have prospective buyers wanting to poke around.

It’s best to give them some privacy. But please do take your shoes off.

Oh…

I laced up my rain cherry red DM’s, and went off stomping towards Wankerville.

I made it a circular route, cutting through lovely Larkhall Park, a brief stretch along Wandsworth Road, and then up towards Wankerville Old Town.

My face doesn’t fit around here. I was clean cut and freshly shaven. But even my boy-ish good looks struggle a little with the Clap’ham 20-somethings.

I took cover in the charity shop stretch.

Clap’ham once had a half decent run of bog standard charity shops. The past few years has seen them morph into ‘vintage retro shops.’

This is Wankerville talk for add another £20 on to the price tag.

Trinity Hospice in the Old Town remains affordable. It has the second best CD collection in South London, only rivalled by Oxfam in Herne Hill.

I don’t usually waste my time digging through the charity shop CD crap: Cliff, Simply Red and Boyzone is your usual offering.

But an upside of having an upmarket neighbourhood like Clap’ham and Herne Hill is that the Bright Young Things do have good tastes in the CD’s they want to dispose of.

I spent five minutes flicking through. I ended up with a couple of Neil Young albums, and Beth Orton’s Comfort of Strangers.

Yours, for three quid all in, Guv.

Job’s a good ‘un.

A return to Brockwell ParkRun on Saturday morning. It’s been a while.

Much in the same way that Brixton Rec is my spiritual home of swimming, Brockwell is my zen place for ParkRun.

It’s where it all first started, and it’s probably where it will all finish, given those BASTARD hills.

But what a way to bow out, popping your clogs whilst running Brockwell ParkRun.

It’s been a cheery Saturday, Comrades…

It was lovely to see some familiar faces and old friends ahead of the 9am start for the race that’s not a race.

I was on time for once as well.

My forward planning involved a brief shifty at the Brockwell ParkRun FB page.

Ah, and so the start has been shifted up towards Brockwell Hall. There’s a new route as well.

I’m pleased that I took the time to take this on board. It takes ten minutes to walk up from the bicycle parking at the lovely Lido towards the big old Brockwell Hall.

A few brief ParkRun instructions, and then blimey - WE’RE OFF!

I know the park inside out, but the route itself I wasn’t sure of. No worries, Jase. There’s zero chance you’re going to actually be setting the pace throughout the 5km.

I was boxed in at the start, but then soon found my rhythm. There was no shame in a 50+ bloke being overtaken by a blushing Bride in her wedding white, probably half my age.

Good effort, Madam. Now get to that bloody Church on time.

The finish was uphill.

Oh ARSE. That took it out of me.

It was worth it though on a splendid Transpontine morning. I was rewarded with the view stretching out over to the City.

I was buzzing off me tits, natch.

The ParkRun email dropped an hour or so later. Fourth in my age cat. I’ll take that.

I’ll also try and not leave it as long next time.

Another day, another random walk around these Transpontine streets.

The route was roughly from Sunny Stockwell and over to the Oval Art Trail: Gasworks, Beaconsfield (closed) and then the Grand Daddy, the mighty Newport Street.

Never one to let an opportunity to snap away, have camera, will snap, etc.

The South London light was fading. My camera struggled to pick out some of the autumnal colours amongst the concrete.

With major regeneration taking place around The Oval with the old gasometer, now is a useful time to capture the changes.

I’m pleased that I managed to capture the old Cricketer’s boozer before it was bulldozed this time last year.

Snappety snap.

I love turning a corner around my S Ldn patch, and then OH MY DAYS, another new mural has appeared.

Create without permission, as we use to say back in the day.

But I suspect that Spanish artist Sebas Velasco did seek permission before he painted his beautiful new piece of work on the side of Broadstone House along Cobbett Street, SW8.

It’s titled ‘Yves’ - a local young fella from Brixton, standing on the Brixton mainline platform.

The art may - or may not - be long for this world. It’s right at the heart of the failed South Lambeth Estate ‘regeneration.’

If Lambeth can be arsed to get its act together after more than a decade of stalling, then we may soon have another soulless, uniform development springing up soon.

Then again.

When regeneration stalls, the streets speak.

Or something.