Recessive PE teacher gene

I know it was hailing ice yesterday, but I can’t stop the feeling spring is sprunging, or trying very hard to sprung. It’s like London has left the big light on, in a good way. Outside feels like warm breath, but not morning breath. I suddenly remember the Easter bank holiday is real.

I’m not outdoors-y per se—I prefer a beach or terrace to a hike and a tent. But spring is coming and I’m imagining the imprint of these chairs on my back. Having a super later dinner. Getting a bit paunchy. Etc etc

Literally don’t know who I am atm without a lil cortado on the go.

Found this pic of some guy in front of my favourite Hockney painting, that he owns. Something about his aura feels like a Jonathan Creek guest star, which is even more enviable. I don’t like him, and I don’t dislike him, which is how I felt about Jerry Springer platforming the KKK every other ep.

As to the painting, what is self-actualisation if not a strop with your arse out?

I like trainers and those light-sheen Nike joggers to the point that I wonder if I have a recessive PE teacher gene. I just think ponyskin pumps have the capability to alter my DNA.

Saw this pic of a homoerotic beach and I now I have to go.