I finally went spring jacket today. I was in two minds about it. I’d been out early this morning. I’m not even sure I slept last night. I had to be up extra early to oversee a collection of something I bought last week that wasn’t fit for purpose.
I jumped in the shower, breakfasted, necked a couple of painkillers to numb the lower back that was feeling absolutely battered and waited for the collection and the inevitable, albeit understandable, moaning from the delivery guys about having to carry something big down from a second floor. The email said anything above the ground floor had to be carried down by myself. I wasn’t having that. I helped the guys last time and I was probably going to have to get involved again today.
I’m hoping that refund comes in midweek. After losing a couple of paid comedy spots this week, it’s threatening to be one of those unpaid weeks creators often specialise in. This is a tough, dispiriting line of work.
After the collection, and the anticipated moaning from the delivery guy, I was out of the flat very quickly and made quick on a trek into Wandsworth Town to pick up another duvet. Despite spring gradually wrestling back control from this most prolonged of winters, you can never have too much toggage.
Just before the duvet purchase, I had to invest in some new hair product as it looks like mine has been discontinued. I don’t slap it on, so the three tubs of putty I’ve had for a few years have lasted me until now. I hadn’t considered that the expiry date might have lapsed, but I tend to disregard these. Last night I had a pastie that was 12 days out of day and I survived to write this post. Last week, I had fresh milk that had gone a day earlier.
In that respect, dragging out the hair putty until 2023, I’m a bit like the Franklin expedition I mentioned last week, who dragged out their 3-year supplies for five years. On Saturday, realising I’d almost run out just as the BOUFFANT re-emerges, I was online trying to buy some new stock only to learn by the end of the day it’s clearly been discontinued. That happens to me so often.
After some reluctant ironing, I headed out late for the lunchtime run and put in a 6.5k. The park was less boggy, thankfully. Running in one direction, it was still fresh. Running in the other, it was reasonably warm. At this point I was still undecided on the spring jacket.
As I finished my run, there was a girl in the park bending right over as she warmed down. I’m assuming this is what was going on, a warmdown. But it was quite the hygiene fail as her pulled-up-high pony tail was actually touching the grass. Elsewhere in the park, a mum was teaching her young kid to do forward rolls. All very good, except, as covered in Saturday’s post, our parks ARE NOT CLEAN.
I’ve been extra big on stuffing my winter coat pockets this winter, as late as last month I was adding rechargeable USB hand warmers. This spring jacket only has two pockets, so I’m going to have to think about how this is going to work. Also, I have to make sure six months down the line, I get a new winter coat. This one, which has now seen out half a dozen winters, has been my last favourite. I don’t like winter coats with a hood. I prefer the standalone winter hat. It has, if anything two many pockets, one of which I didn’t discover until four years after buying the coat (I’m not the most curious of guys, whether we’re talking travelling or winter coats), it’s got these annoying cords around the hood which were always getting caught in the straps of my rucksack, with the right cord for some reason always longer than the left.
Entitled to a free coffee today, I was in THE café. If I can start and finish the week in here, that’ll be a decent way forward to overcome last month’s killer price rise, and then I’ll spend the rest of the week in the back-up café, aware that the roles have arguably reversed.
Café soundscape
I picked up a seat by one of only two radiators in THE café and it’s still on. Maybe if they turned the heating off now, the money they saved on energy could see them bring their coffee prices back down? Wishful thinking.
Spring in THE café is always uplifting. The damp weather has again seen the floor by the entrance rise so the door scrapes when opened, leading to a mild revival of last winter’s ‘door-bark’ covered on this Substack last summer.
Just after 1700hrs, Argentina ’78, the long-time northern regular prone to wearing old-school tight shorts in the summer that are arguably as tight and short as those worn by the 1978 World Cup winners and who still calls me ‘Alan’ despite us talking for 13 years now, arrived. He shook my hand. Normally my winter coat is on the back of my chair so I can easily reach into my left pocket and discretely bring out the fragrance-free hand gel. With the spring jacket now taking over, getting the hand gel was a protracted process. I had to wait until no one was looking so I spent a few minutes writing sinister-handed so I didn’t lose any vital writing time.
Argentina ’78 is in a royal blue t-shirt and has grown out a beard that makes him look like he’s been taken hostage. His back hair is also unaddressed and has now sprouted to such a degree that it’s making contact with his wispy mullet. In a certain light, the back hair looks like a spectacular mullet but when he turns his head, you can see the divide between wispy mullet and back hair. I have to say, I’ve never seen back hair break through the back of a crew neck in quite this way. Like weeds emerging through concrete.
I’m still trying to work out some plot issues with my latest script and indeed, put a callout on Twitter this afternoon to get answers to a particular question relevant to the script. Possibly relevant would be more accurate.
That’s me for today.
I’m off to get some long-life milk.
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