Score: ۞۞۞۞۞
Sunday morning. Woke up on J's floor with the sun burning in my face and my throat scorching with thirst. Another great, late night, no dinner. Fab.
Trip to The Royal Cafe on Fleet Road left me feeling bloated but hungry for a swim. Quick burn down to Brixton on my Vespa was in order.
Brockwell Lido, overlooked on one side by Brockwell Park and council flats on the other. Slightly smaller cousin of Parliament Hill Lido. Lots of Ivy on the walls, lifestyle fusion gym going on somewhere, cool clock where it should be. Lido Cafe? Lots of skinny-white Brixton folk enjoying alfresco halloumi etc.
Big and beautiful pool, widish lanes, not a lot of swimmers in any of them. Water is deep and gorgeous, set my self a target of a mile, that's 36 big 50m lengths. Had the lane to myself for the first 20 lengths, this morning's micro hangover is now a vague memory. Feel overlooked by chattering, munching middle classes in the 'cafe', I turn on the style. I hope this doesn't happen up north.
Après swim I planned to hang out by the pool and read Bleak Expectations but a loud sound check for something south London or other disturbs my peace. Besides, I feel as tho' I've committed adultery, it's time to find my boxer shorts and leave.
Lose a cherished motorbike glove, thankfully a lovely south Londoner has stuck it on a railing. Thank you.