I went up to our acting boss in February 2015 and told her I would soon be leaving London for Manchester. I implied I'd be resigning. Cos that was what I was planning to do. My job was in London. I was moving to Manchester. It made sense. But that wasn't to be. Instead, I started working from home.
It started with a tweet. And ended with a Google search and a fire engine. Also there's some pointless witting on about stuff. Look, it will waste a few minutes of your time, that's the best I can offer.
All the swimming pools I’ve been in since April 2015 REVIEWED! – the Stockport, Greater Manchester edition
A brief history of local government, Olympians and Paralympians, No Diving signs and an in-depth discussion on swimming pool design changes since the 1980s.
All the swimming pools I’ve been in since April 2015 REVIEWED! – the Tameside, Greater Manchester edition
I know! Even MORE about all the swimming pools I've been to! It's just mad! But this one talks about youth, bright blue walls, wave machines, and more. What else could you ask for?
Every now and then, I have a dream. Well not a dream. A version of a specific dream.It involves us having moved into a large house at some point. And there's loads of junk and stuff left from previous owners. There's a room that needs sorting out. A room we never use because it's full of stuff.
Don't say you didn't think this one was coming. Especially not after an extensive blog post about how I track all the swimming I do. Yes, it's every swimming pool I've been in since 2015! Well, in London anyway.
On Monday 6 April 2015 I went swimming. I swam 70 lengths, in a 25m pool. Later that week I went another three times, and swam an additional 180 lengths. In total I swam a distance 6.25km. How do I know? Well...
Just a short thing about an old, rusty bus stop.
It's not a phrase I have come across very much in my life. At least, not spelt out like that. According to Google's Ngram viewer, usage peaked in the 1920s. Perhaps everyone exclaimed it whilst doing the Charleston or something. I came across it many years later, in a series of Grange Hill novels stocked in my high school library. Books with stories of Ziggy and Whammo and loads of other characters who had long gone from the TV screen. But which I read anyway. And on every page there seemed to be someone whining "Oh Gawd", "Good Gawd", or perhaps just "Gawd!"
When she was 40, my partner Catherine was given a record player as a present. We had no records of course, but we began to build up a collection. And I'm loving it.