Day 7: Battersea Park Rd to Enlightenment

Today's the day Arlo starts on his path towards enlightenment!

He's reached that age when he has to learn there's more to life than just lying in the sun, sucking his cock and snacking on fresh salmon. 

I've drawn the short straw for shaman duties so let the Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment journey begin.

The more Arlo travels in my bike box the easier it gets for both of us as he now understands my terse 'SIT!' instruction and now does just that without delay.

I've figured out how to best attach his leash so he doesn't leap out when spotting a French poodle on heat cruising by on the other side of the road.

Now's not the time for an art tour, I do good ones, but it's important to make a quick stop at Barbara to relax briefly after the busiest part of the cycle ride from SW4 into the SW11 postcode.

We've whizzed  down the hill straight outta Clapham, over a railway track and through the busy urban back streets of Battersea. 

Arlo needed to be very secure inside his temporary home so I can concentrate on the white van men, TfL's finest bus drivers and bitter black cabbies trying to kill me as their reprisal for Daesh, Uber drivers and the middle aged men in lycra daring to cycle on Zone 2 streets too.

Once inside Battersea Park, it's suddenly a calm ride around the carriageway to my meet up with Cllr Walker and her charge.

Another very hot day, but arriving at my favourite hillock next to the Peace Pagoda where I used to take Amelia as a babe to relax and watch Thames refuse barges sail by eastward towards the Belvedere incinerator. Memories.

Amelia asked that I introduced Arlo to some big mf dogs, so it's a chance to do just that, chat local elections, postal vote strategies, parkrun, SNT, vaccinations and even some dog-talk.

Up until now third party dogs just don't get close to Arlo as I'm in duty_of_care mode, my call-sign is "cunt" according to one mongrel's dog-owner, but Councillor Walker has vouched for her dog's credentials so it's time for a relaxed social where we can sniff each other's genitalia.

The ride back is uphill into the hot sun, I'm grateful for a subdued cargo now he's enlightened enough to be sniffing his Dharma bum for the journey home meditating on his fresh salmon fillet waiting in the fridge, and me my wine gums too.

NB: I never wear lycra.

Off Licence Cold Beer Tune of Friday Night: 

Other photos from today: