Off to the hospital to get a wayward-looking mole examined. With a bunch of anxious people and over-worked staff, waiting became an exercise in patience. The ones who cracked provided some distracting entertainment, as did my bright waistcoat. A doctor, two nurses and myself came to the conclusion that Vaseline would be the best answer to the itchy, but non-malignant, mole.
And an afternoon walk on Nacton shores – a local beauty spot with a reputation for outdoor gay liaisons – produced at meeting with Mr T----, and his friend. Half-an-hour later, as Lynda and I travelled down the old A45 past a lay-by – also well-known for gay meetings – revealed that Mr T----, and his friend, were still looking for ….?
Lunch at The Woolpack. Not as 'fabulous' as I'd been led to believe. Pedestrians and car drivers seemed eager to rush towards me as I cycled to the hospital – one woman had her head in her phone and was quite startled by my 'Look up!" as she stepped in front of me. Who needs a bell with lungs like a blacksmith's bellows?
Work consisted of watching five cars being washed. My brain became numb.
Rebuilt Patsy #2 The CX with new chain, cassette and main chainring. Managed to put the chainring on the wrong way. Oh, joy. Two rebuilds in one day.
Out to The Cricketers with CAMRA vouchers. £1.85 a pint. I had several. The pub had a supposed beer festival, but there were a suspiciously large number brewed by a company called 'Available Soon'.
Friday: Lynda weeded 525 sycamore seedlings from the garden.
Saturday: I weeded one.