We Picked All The Butts, And We Cannot Lie!

8 Hardy Goodgymmers braved a very wintry Wednesday night as they litter-picked the wet streets of Haringey.

Nice to see you again!

Tonight we welcomed back Veronika, who we hadn't seen since the uber-lurgy sent the world into a rather unpleasant spin, and she looked like she'd hardly skipped a beat. A natural! Hope the cold and the chat didn't scare you away.

We also said hello again to GG tourist Jack who visited us all the way from Barnet. Likewise hope we didn't scare you away and you come and see us soon again.

The Pick Of The Bunch

It's not a secret to regular readers of these weekly ramblings that our Haringey Goodgymmers will never have a bigger fan/cheerleader/intense-putative-ancestor than good ol' Gramps and that I think the world of you lot, and it's nights like this that will only ever make that love even stronger.

I mean, let's call a spade a spade: that was a horrid night. It was wet. It was cold. It was dark. Our best laid plans for the evening were cruelly dragged away from us with a few scant minutes to go and no one of you flinched when I suggested that we go litter-picking instead. You were all well within your rights to tell me to sod off but instead you came out anyway, into the cold, wet night with a smile upon your face and a much-needed spring upon your step.

And even then, when the streets of Haringey turned out to be in much better nick than suggested earlier in the day, and we had to go exploring to actually earn our good deed for the night, there wasn't even one single word of complaint. It was, as usual, all fun and games. You lot are the best.

We picked cigarette butts and empty vodka bottles to our hearts' content until a certain self-proclaimed 'shorts/t-shirt evangelist' could no longer feel his fingers and it was time to call it a night.

And what a night it was!

Come for a long fun run on Sunday as we try to hit the highest points of seven different London boroughs. Fun.