Two long cycle rides
Got up at 06:30, cycled to St Stephen's for 08:00 to help with gaddening but it was all locked up when I arrived. I waited ten minutes and did then start to see people, but no sign of Val and I was discouraged by then and headed off, enjoyably cruising down Highgate West Hill - on the way I'd used the less steep Archway route. Val later said she had been there.
I was still having (less serious) trouble with the Template and didn't get much work done but finished the Top 100 nicely in time. At lunchtime we cycled to Tottenham to get my new bike lock, having accidentally let the previous one drop off when I put my bike down at Alexandra Palace recently. It was an excuse for a bike ride really and I took Jack by my now-familiar back-street route from Finsbury Park.
We were able to jump the long queue at Halford's, so on a whim I suggested to Jack that we took the river-and-canal route home which I ran last week. It was already 13:00 so I didn't let him stop at Greggs. He enjoyed our ride along the River Lea and wants to do it at a leisurely pace one day.
I didn't cut away at the bridge to take the back-street route to Victoria Park, but carried on, as I was sure the right turn from the river onto the canal must be obvious, but we still missed it. We were in unfamiliar territory but luckily the route to Mile End was a Cycle-Superhighway so it was quick. It took 23 minutes from the Olympic stadium to Victoria Park which would have taken at least ten minutes even if we hadn't gone wrong.
I left Jack at 14:19 as I was not only late back to work, but we had a team bingo game at 14:30. However in my hurry I made bad decisions and ended up back on the canal, just ahead of Jack.
My boss phoned me at 14:26 but it was about an authorisation, he didn't ask where I'd been and no-one seemed to notice I was ten minutes late for the bingo. It was boring, the numbers were read out by Neil who seems to fancy himself as an old-fashioned Northern club comic, with clichéd "jokes" about his wife's bra, and how he'd like to get rid of her.
After work we watched a new film and a Q&A about the 1970s Rock Against Racism movement. The racialist National Front had been recruiting well, thinking it was easy to infiltrate working class teenagers, and were shocked when they realised most kids preferred an opposing gathering, backed by the young pub and ska groups which were emerging. The National Front won no seats at the 1979 election and soon disappeared.
We got a take-away delivery (something else we never did before the lockdown) from What The Pitta. I ordered a brownie because the discount you could then get, was more than the cost if the brownie. But they never sent the brownie, although it was on my printed bill.
Unsurprisingly Roger sent some tedious texts about the football.