Another day, another bicycle ride along the Trail en route for a swim. These blog posts write themselves - and we’re not talking AI, Comrades.

The water was still coming in - I think? It was a little lacklustre, tbh.

My only observation to note was that the quayside repairs on the Rowhedge side of the Muddy Banks look almost complete.

A team of hard-hatted, hi vis fellas were ticking off items on a clipboard. The iron structure to replace the one that fell into the estuary looks finished.

Will there be a grand reopening?

Unlikely.

This whole stretch still REEKS of shit from the nearby sewage plant.

Oh the excitement of a Trail bicycle ride.

Another day, another crisp ride along the Trail. Once again there was a bloody high tide down by the Muddy Banks. The spillage where the estuary floods the marshland was almost impassable.

Almost.

I rode through, as though I was competing in the Slow Bike Race back at a schools Sports Day.

OCD wins the day, as ever.

Chapeau!

That was one hell of a high tide down by the Muddy Banks this morning. In fact the Muddy Banks were nowhere to be seen.

It was also incredibly choppy around Windy Corner at Rowhedge.

You don’t say.

Birds were bobbing up at down along the water. Walkers were walking. My bicycle bell was active.

Chapeau!

There was an impressive high tide down by the Muddy Banks this lunchtime. The eastetny wind was blowing up a bit as well. Rowing was cancelled, natch.

The midway point along the Trail that floods over with high water was just about passable. I prayed to the Bicycle OCD Gods as I gingerly cycled through.

Always changing, always the same.

Friday lunchtime at the Table of Dreams 🏓 BATTERED her 4-1. Wind may have played a part.

We played with the heavy wind ball. It bounces like a demon.

In Boules News: the new boules strip built by the Town Council looks ready to play.

I look forward to the culture clash, when the stiffs look down on two young-ish urban kids living out their table tennis fantasies. Yep.

#tableofdreams

A pleasant early autumnal walk along the Trail towards Sunny Colch. Not a bad little place to live, etc.

To Moving Image!

…on Tuesday evening. Tuesday evening is DATE NIGHT, right? I do bloody love sharing my Tuesday evenings in a musty old village hall with the local coffin dodgers.

Oh - and Wifey as well.

The film up for grabs was Holy Cow, a French language film, natch.

Wifey tried to tell me beforehand that it was a flick all about a French yoof living in the countryside who liked shagging.

Job’s a good ‘un, etc.

I was the smart arse who watched the trailer shortly before leaving. I pulled her up on the finer details.

“Actually, luv, it’s a film about making cheese. Plus some shagging in a rural French setting.”

So there.

Erectile dysfunctions also featured. It was a French film, after all.

Plus it was short - the film, not the erectile sub-plot. I do like a short film that means that I’m back at base for the second half of the football.

Date Nights ROCK in our household, Comrades.

The plot was simple: a family death on a rural cheese making farm leads to some rapid growing up for a young French yoof. His quest then becomes to manufacture some award winning cheese.

You’d have problems pitching that one at the major film studios.

There was a delightful sense of innocence throughout. It was accompanied by a charming rural soundtrack. It reminded me in parts of the fantastic Detectorists.

It made me want to experiment and make some cheese.

No prizes for guessing that the French yoof didn’t land the big cheese prize. But there was a happy ending, of sorts.

Ce la vie.