Another ‘almost missed this one’ snap. Judging by the lack of a sun setting, I’ll let you make your own mind up.

I did have plans to go out late in the afternoon. The BBC weather forecast argued against me. I’m pleased that I took the advice.

This hit and miss snap has S Ldn rain swirling around. WET rain.

And yes - there is a difference.

It’s been an incredibly mild day around these SW8 parts. T-shirts were the wardrobe choice for many - which is BONKERS, the day after Bonfire Night.

I was hoping for something of a killer Sunny Stockwell sunset. 6/10.

Must try harder.

SHOUT OUT to the old school punk sitting out side the Socialist Party of GB HQ as I ran along Clap’ham High Street this morning.

If it wasn’t for me pounding the mean streets of SW4, I probably would have stopped by for a chat.

The fella was rocking the Punk’s Not Dead look. He wouldn’t have looked out of place on an Exploited album cover from 1984.

Some form of staff was in place. My eyes lit up at first when I thought he was flogging on old punk CD’s.

The return leg of the route concluded that it was Socialist pamphlets.

The revolution will be involve cheap cider, etc.

He stood out like a punk on a postcard along Clap’ham High Street. Even with the Bright Young Things of SW4 back at work, passing through Clap’ham is like landing in another Universe these days.

I pressed on with the run, back down to earth and back down to Sunny Stockwell. I took in the lovely Larkhall Park detour.

The Tree Men were in place, chatting shit etc, buried away amongst the bushes.

It’s a very localised sight, and even then, one that you might miss and you run or walk past.

The Tree Men are a group of elderly fellas who take cover in some of the bushes around the Wandsworth Road end of the park. They turn the daily gathering into quite an event, with picnic stools and music.

The picnic of choice appears to be BOOZE and strong weed.

But they’re harmless.

Like the Punk’s Not Dead dude of SW4, the Tree Men of lovely Larkhall are a reminder that South London 2025 is not all about luxury apartments and hot yoga.

Life carries on behind the fringes, often in pretty bleak circumstances. That doesn’t make it any less worthy.

It looks so peaceful. Trust me, it’s not at 5pm on 5th November 🧨

Now that’s more like it.

Wrap up warm, soak up the S Ldn rays and it could be mid-June.

Sorta.

I’ll miss the Veteran Car Run chugging along South Lambeth Road, if future personal plans ever come to something. Every November, for a quarter of a Century (!) I’ve been woken by the sound of the classic cars slowly making their way towards Brixton.

It’s Destination Brighton for the relics as part of the annual coastal run. It must be a challenge for some of them to make it even as far as St Reatham up the road.

You can hear them coming at the Stockwell end of South Lambeth Road all the way from the Little Porto end. Those old engines aren’t exactly cutting edge EV technology. It’s the one exception I can make without going ape shit over petrol polluters.

Sunday morning was very similar to the previous twenty four years of observing the grand old spectacle. It always seems to rain on this one weekend of the year. The dampness combined with the petrol led to a very intoxicating smell.

The drivers and passengers looked dapper. I was more in awe with some of the wardrobe decisions than the old bangers themselves.

This may - or may not - be my final year of observing this tradition. I like to think that the Veteran Car Run will still be taking place in twenty five years time.

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

An hour or so later after this snap was taken, the S Ldn skies were illuminated with an incredible fireworks display. I think it was from Battersea Park.

Fireworks make for crap photos on an iPhone. I’ll stick with the Same as it Ever Was Sunny Stockwell Skies.

I was a little late in the day coming to this one once again. Technically it wasn’t a Sunny Stockwell sunset.

Don’t be fooled by the nice little fluffy cloud that is illuminated. About ten minutes later, this turned into a right old BEASTY and dumped the MUTHA of rainfall down on a not so Sunny Stockwell.

I paced around the flat, checking the ceiling for leaks, and looking at the guttering to make sure it was holding firm.

Sometimes it’s best just to say FUCK IT, and get on with your life.

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.