Some evenings feel like just another task. This was not one of those evenings.

This one felt like the Beatles climbing onto the rooftop of Apple Corps without any flashy announcements, without calling it a finale, without any fanfare - just plugging in and playing because that’s what they’d always done. Because tonight we weren’t just playing a familiar tune by clearing the emergency exit at the Stroud Green and Harringay Library but we were also marking our Gramps’ 300th GoodGym task and his final night as Haringey Area Activator, after six years as the band leader.

Six years of setting the tempo. Calling the tune. Keeping the band moving slightly forward with a mix of mishaps, bad puns, and an unnatural ability for mild chaos.

The task itself was perfectly on theme: stripped back, practical, familiar. Sam, Sarah, Latoya, and Paul scraping leaves off the ground like virtuoso rhythm guitar players, Mark, Dave, and Neil firmly escorting overgrown plants off stage. Veronika running fashionably late. The emergency exit, long hidden behind greenery, came back into view, clear, usable, quietly essential. No fireworks. Just the work.

Quite appropriately, we even had time for a mid-set cameo from the Montes Surtees clan, turning up like familiar faces at the edge of the roof, for one more song.

Over those six years, this GG family band did more than play tasks. GoodGym babies joined the world. A myriad of races were run. We performed a strong socially-distanced hum through a pandemic. We wrote our own funereal hymns after the loss of one of our loved ones as we stood together in silence, and then in a lot on noise, because that was the only thing that mattered. And we laughed. A lot.

When the last leaf was cleared, we wandered to Rowans, just like the Beatles kind of did once the police have finally had enough. Drinks were raised. Speeches balanced gratitude and mischief. Karaoke followed, gloriously unpolished, everyone getting a turn at the mic. Gramps was given the most beautiful book, full of memories, that rumour has it, he still hasn't managed to get through it in one sitting.

Like that rooftop concert, it didn’t feel like a goodbye in the moment. Just one last time playing together, above the city, before heading back down into whatever came next. Only later do you realise you were watching the end of something special.

Same Goodgym. Same people. Different verse.

And what a song it’s been.

Love you, fam. And because Nurj would never forgive me if I didn't sign out with it... Boom!

Five wonderful GoodGymmers assembled last night for a thorough litter pick around Finsbury Gardens.

The One Where Sarah Tried (Twice)

The gardens are riddled with mess, we had been assured but at first glance after our arrival, the place looked suspiciously spotless. You know that moment when you arrive, gloves on, litter pickers at the ready, and think: Have we been pre-cleaned? Well, appearances can deceive, and our Goodgymmers are nothing if not determined. Give us a patch of grass and a bit of shrubbery, and we will find rubbish. And sure enough, we did: three whole bags of it, thank you very much.

But the star of the haul was not the crisp packets, the bottles, nor even the mysterious orphaned shoe. No. The true crown jewel of the evening was an old, slightly tragic scooter bravely rescued from an overgrown bramble as if it had been waiting years for exactly this moment.

Naturally, Mark and Paul immediately recreated their BMX-driving, non-helmet-wearing glory days with gusto. Happy to report that despite some questionable driving, no Goodgymmers were harmed in the making of this report.

Meanwhile, James stole the sartorial spotlight with the most important debut of the night: his brand-new red GG T-shirt. Fresh, vibrant, and worn with the pride of someone who has absolutely been waiting for the postman like a kid on Christmas Eve. At one point we’re pretty sure he was modelling it more than he was litter-picking, but honestly? Fair enough. It looked great. All along, Veronika kept us all ticking along and on task with the patience of a saint. Hero.

Special shout-out goes to Sarah, who heroically attempted to join us not once but twice. Unfortunately, the universe , and London buses, had different plans for her. Two failed attempts, two disappearing hopes, one determined Goodgymmer foiled by public transport. We missed you, Sarah. Your perseverance deserves at least half a bag’s worth of credit. Also honourable mention to Ellie, who in true GG Haringey form, absolutely stacked it at her run club and is currently in the sick bin. Heal soon, Ellie.

In the end, Finsbury Gardens was a little cleaner, we were a little happier, and Paul and Mark were a little wobblier in the knees than when we started. A successful evening all round.

Come next week.