Britpop bangers from start to finish. You forget how frequently Cast troubled the charts around this time. The Britpop big hitters took all the headlines. Which is a shame, as Cast were a great band for the times. They were the Smiths for the 90’s with endless TOTP performances. All Change is classic British R&B, updated with a modern feel. John Power knows how to pen a pop song, and then beef it up. Great Britpop survivors - but then aren’t they all these days?
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I must confess I have never heard of Curaçao as a country, let alone a competitive football team. My geography knowledge started with the home countries and ended with irrigation, before I even had the chance to continue with an O Level in a subject I had no interest in.
But blimey. Curaçao have certainly lit up the World Cup in the opening 30 minutes. Their navy blue shirt with yellow shorts is sexy as fuck. Expect sales of these to be the must-have kit this summer. SHOUT OUT to Germany for having a retro feel with an Italia 90 look.
To the Allotment! …on Sunday lunchtime.
We had been given prior warning that the Town Council are going to be inspecting the patch sometime next week. Fix up, look sharp etc.
I had one task and one task only: to mow back the borders. I do enjoy a neatly trimmed border.
The rain in recent weeks, followed by a brief burst of Essex sunshine, has led to extra growth elsewhere around the allotment. It seems that our country patch of land has become more of a flower bed than a growing vegetable patch. This wasn’t the plan but it looks pretty all the same.
Surprisingly it was very peaceful up there for a weekend. I think Sunday morning is the time to avoid the allotment. This is when the allotment anoraks are out, pestering you to swap seeds and exchanging tips about how things grow. I just like to shove things in the ground, water them, and then walk away.
The only other sound I could hear was leather on willow as the cricket team were going through their Sunday game in the adjacent field.
Our allotment neighbour came a cropper last week when a ball was hit sweetly and landed straight in her greenhouse. Glasshouses etc.
Half an hour later and my mowing was complete. Jobs a good ‘un. I thought I had mowed over a dead snake. It turns out it was a ropey old piece of string, natch.
To the Kayak! …on Sunday morning.
Having been stuck in a Lidl queue, I was a little late for time and tide - which was a shame as there was an exceptionally high tide waiting for me down at the Sailing Club. It’s just a shame that it had started its outward trajectory.
A lot more organised than me was the WivGigs double Sunday morning crew. They were packing away just as I was preparing to launch on the hard.
Oh dear.
There was still roughly 45 minutes of water left available for me to enjoy before the spectacle of a lone nut job being marooned on the thick Essex mud became a reality.
I headed upstream against the outgoing tide. I had to dodge a few fishing lines with a couple of fellas on the jetty dangling their big rods.
Regatta preparations on the Rowhedge side of the river were already underway ahead of next weekend. Look away now if you are not a fan of bunting.
The highlight of the row was seeing a doggy enjoying his time on a paddle board. There was a human element involved as well.
For some reason there was an ever-present drone ahead of me. It was either Putin taking an unhealthy interest in a mid-fifties bloke wearing Lycra shorts or more likely some local snoop who thought I will make great YouTube footage.
Sorry fella, I don’t think I will get the clicks for you.
A big old run to start Sunday morning. There were blue skies up above and I had miles in my legs, or make that kms in my legs. I’m a metric continental type of guy.
I did look an absolute running dick though. Not only did I have the compression long socks on, I also had my stupid sweatband. As ever I feel the need to explain with the disclaimer that this is there for practical purposes and not vanity. It keeps the AirPods in place and acts as a useful covering strap for my oversized ears.
Like a fool I chose to head out on the same route where I first experienced the injury that has taken me the longest ever to recover from. It’s not the most adventurous route but it is relatively quiet and is on flat pavement. I am no fan of cross country running.
The route involves heading through the town towards the University and then down towards The Hythe for a quick turn around. Then we do it all again for the reverse route.
Trying to distract me from being a hypochondriac with more injury concerns was the ever excellent KLate Junction in my AirPods. It’s such a magical listening especially first thing in the morning. I do love the paradox of Late Junction in the morning.
On the return leg for the University a game of cricket was already starting. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet. SHOUT OUT to the committed two teams who were pitching up in all white.
This was very much a run all about distance rather than pace. I was reminded of this closer to home when the renowned Wivenhoe Flyer sped past me without blinking.
Run to live, live to run.
To the Table of Dreams! …late in the day on Saturday. I had a little extra time out of work responsibilities for a knock-up game of wiff waff.
The park was busy. It was great to see kids of all ages enjoying many of the activities. A large extended family even rocked up and started to enjoy a game of boules on the recently built court.
All the activity made it a little tricky to focus on the table tennis. The highlight was one particular kid who was sitting on his scooter and riding down the big hill, treating it as a roller coaster. It truly was the BEST day of his life.
Somehow I managed to bluff myself into a 3-2 lead. A final decider game was offered up. I took my chances and walked away whilst I could.
To Brightlingsea!… On Saturday afternoon for Open Gardens. Having snubbed Wivenhoe Open Gardens, we thought we would show our faces down the road where no other fucker would recognise us
But OF COURSE we turned a corner and bumped into a friendly face. OH HAI.
I say Brightlingsea Open Gardens: we only visited one garden. This was Moverons. It’s a very classy remote Brightlingsea farmhouse that overlooks the estuary. Local folk rave about it. It’s only open a few days of the year to the public.
I’ve always wanted to visit Moverons and so Open Gardens seemed like the ideal opportunity.
We cycled over, making this short journey on a combination of a mechanical hybrid and a mini-wheeler electric. Yeah like a dickhead I once again wanted to try and prove the point that the iScooter U4 isn’t the waste of money that I actually know it probably is.
My cycling partner, on her non-electric, arrived at Moverons well ahead of me. This wasn’t a good start.
We had a very friendly welcome on the gate, as well as some polite suggestions as to where we could park the bikes. I was secretly hoping that someone might want to nick the iScooter U4 and I could do an insurance job.
Moverons is fascinating as well as being a little weird. It’s a working farm that has some spectacular gardens. The gardens are all pretty much self-contained with a few passageways joining them all up. I couldn’t help think it would be an ideal location for some form of outdoor summer Shakespeare.
Maps were available, but we took the anarchic choice of doing some random wandering. Immediately I was drawn towards the radiant lavenders. They didn’t appear to grow in any particular direction. The Estuary Wild’s sun had a 360 on them. They were stunning. A mental note was made to draw inspiration for future garden plans back at base.
We then entered the courtyard with what appeared to have an upside-down tree. It was growing 180 degrees in the wrong direction. It looked a little freaky.
What Moverons is unique in doing is creating tidy courtyard gardens, and then some more wild woodland areas in which you are free to roam. It would have been rude not to.
It was here that we realised what the main attraction was. A number of local artists have created some pretty impressive metallic sculptures that are dotted around the gardens. These were all animal-themed and were extremely high quality. The sculptures blended in wonderfully with the green background as the rustic metal changed colour under different light circumstances.
We spent a lot longer than I first imagined at Moverons. I would certainly want to go back for a second visit. We did have plans for a nearby village fate on the way home. We ran out of time.
The iScooter U4 was a little more promising on the way home. I worked out that if you are in third assist and pedal ever so slightly, with so much of a light touch that you aren’t actually rotating the wheel, then the maximum third assist power kicks in. You are in effect freewheeling with a very light touch on the pedals but you have the power assist.
It’s an odd ride, for sure.
I took the iScooter U4 out for its proper real test today as part of a combined trip to Home Bargains, Lidl, and then a swim. LIVE the dream, Jace.
Having been mildly impressed with the new bicycle yesterday, I’m now on a bit of a downer with it. Put simply it’s a bit pants. You pay for what you get, etc.
Power assist one and power assist two are completely useless. They are capped at 10 and 15 km per hour. I can actually cycle faster with the motor turned off.
The top power assist level 3, however, is a different matter. Hit that mode and VROOM, you’re flying! You’re actually flying a little too fast. My legs couldn’t keep up with the speed at which the motor was being rotated.
The route into the gym was half decent irrespective of the bicycle. Whitehall Road has been resurfaced in the past week and now rides like a dream; that’s a dream apart from the usual dickhead motorists who seem to treat this particular stretch of Sunny Colch as a close-pass paradise.
It was also particularly windy. Rowing had already been cancelled for the morning. I was pleased to have power assist three to take me up Whitehall Road, despite he pace it chose to transport me.
I rocked up at the gym. It’s been closed for the past few days with a complete refit of the main gym space. It looks pretty impressive. I skipped it all and headed straight for the pool.
This was my first swim after a week away. I felt strong. Once again the spin dryer in the gents had been removed for repairs. Fancy gym equipment, same old shitty spin dryer.
I really need to get my head around the iScooter U4. I’m pondering a return.
I woke up early on Saturday morning, fighting fit and all set for a return to ParkRun. I was getting my arse in gear and had the last-minute thought of: Hey! Let’s check the Colchester ParkRun Facebook page to make sure everything is tickety-boo.
Arse, Sunny Colch ParkRun is not taking place this morning. There’s the annual nonsense of people firing off big cannons in celebration of some old duffer. Not my King, etc. It’s not even his proper birthday. Cheers, Charlie.
It felt like the perfect early June morning outside. There is no such thing as a perfect early June morning these days. I’ve got it lodged in my memory from some long-distant late 70s past of how a June morning should feel: fresh but bright with blue skies. Betcha it pisses it down by midday.
The mean streets of CO7 were relatively quiet. I did clock Mr B, who was also out pounding the pavements. I think he was on route to the allotment. Good effort fella.
I felt as though I had the legs and the fitness to press on a little further than the usual 5 km recovery route. I really want to get back into the swing of running 10 km all the way around the estuary circuit, but I live in fear of another calf ping! moment. Instead I tagged on an extra couple of km or so. Build it up slowly, Jase.
And so a decent run. I really wish I could have completed a ParkRun once again. In the end I went a little more than the ParkRun 5 km, clocking in 6.9 km at under 5 min/km. Happy with that.
Run to live, live to run.
An album that sounds like it was put together to specifically win a Brit award. There’s no quirk or magic carried forward from The Eurythmics. Where’s Dave, etc? Sure, it’s classy. But it’s also mainstream slush. I’m not a mainstream slush type of guy. It’s not exactly going to start a class war, is it? Why has an enduring appeal; Broken Glass is half decent background radio music. But that’s about it. Lisa Stansfield does the pop soul thing with far more passion.
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