Thursday 13th November 2014

Wednesday.

Now, It should have been the third of my five days away, and yet here I was packing ready to go home. Because of the surprise news that the customer would be going home early, I was able to arrange an early flight back home, and so have four days back in Blighty over the weekend, before flying back to Denmark again on Monday.

I gave myself an extra long lay in bed, until it was getting light outside, before springing into action, packing, getting ready for a day's work and travel home. Once checked out, I drove to the office in Esbjerg, ready to catch up on my mail before it was time to leave for the airport.

Much to my surprise, I had a ticket for the business lounge, so I settled down with some free beer and try to finish the Danny Baker book. Outside, the rain fell and night fell by mid-afternoon. Or so it seemed. The flight was called, and we made our way to the gate. I slumped into seat 3A, opened my book and preparations for take off went on around me.

We took off into the angry skies, and soon Denmark was lost to view out of the window. I carried on reading, enthralled in my book, Europe rolled by, and when I looked back out, the Belgian coastline could be seen as we crossed the North Sea towards Essex.

We flew over Southend, across The Thames along the line of the A2 and then round the southern suburbs until we passed over the transmitter at Crystal Palace, the plane swung north, passing over the old Battersea Power Station and then swooping lower over the Thames, Piccadilly Circus, Buckingham Palace, Harrods, Regent Park Zoo: they all rolled by below me. It is a glorious sight, looking north I could see the arch of the Barlow Train Shed where the train to Dover would be being prepared for the run to the coast, maybe I could make it and be home by eight fifteen.

We landed, and taxied to a slot very quickly: a bus rolled up and be de-bused quickly. There was no queue at immigration, my case was waiting for me. I swept it up, went out to the DLR station, for a four minute wait for a train to Stratford. I checked my watch, it was going to be tight. How is it when you are in a hurry does it seem the train is taking its time? Well, it did. And as we finally rolled into Stratford International, I had a minute to get up the stairs, cross to the Southeastern platforms, down the stairs there. I wasn't going to make it, so I was last off the train, and ambled up to the lounge, had a gingerbread latte and read some more until it was time to go to the platform.

Catching this later train means it has only 6 coaches rather than the 12 the direct train to Dover had, so there is little chance of a seat, and so it was as some greedy people rather their bags or coats were comfortable rather than give up half the double seat for a fellow traveller. Oh well, its just half an hour to where i change at Stratford. Standing on the platform, there were no clouds overhead, and the moon, now past full was rising in the east.A couple of Eurostars thunder past on the avoiding lines, leaving the overhead wires bouncing in their wake.

The train to Dover rumbles in, we all rush on, but there is more than enough room for us all. We travel through the darkness and I have my head buried in the book, I look up to see us arriving in Folkestone. As we emerge from Abbotscliff Tunnel, I could see the lights of France twinking across the Channel, I was nearly home.

Jools was waiting, I throw my cases in the back of the car, and off we go to the house on the cliffs. You know the drill by now, we have a bite to eat and me a huge cuppa. Another long, long day was over, and I was home two days early.

One for the good guys then!