Wednesday 1st April 2015

Monday.

The commute to Denmark. Again.

It is still dark when the alarm went off; we lay in bed for a few minutes until the birds outside indicated that it was morning and we really should be getting up. I have an hour before my train is due at Martin Mill, but it is surprising how long a decent amount of faffing about, feeding cats, making coffee and the other important tasks that morning demands. I am ready with 20 minutes to go, and the drive takes only a couple of minutes down the hill to Martin Mill, but already there are several people at the ticket office, meaning that by the time I got to the front, the credit card machine was rebooted twice, I had only a couple of minutes before the train arrived.



But I did make it on, got a seat looking out of the left hand side, facing forward, so view over Dover as we left Guston Tunnel, Samphire Hoe, the Folkestone Harbour Branch, the motormay to Maidstone, the Ford Works, the Bridge at Dartford. In the woods at Sandling, the snowdrops have almost gone over. There is hardly any sign of the white flowers at all, which means spring is well under way, even if might not feel like it from time to time.

And time to get off, at Stratford, walk to the DLR and catch the train to the airport, where, it was chaos. Queues everywhere, it took me 30 minutes to drop my bags off, and then up in security, no queues at all. Very odd. And the lounge was pretty quiet too, but i had no time for breakfast, just buy a couple of magazines and be ready for the sprint to the gate when the flight is called.



We get on board, the engines start, and we taxi to the piano keys, the engines roar, the blades change pitch, the planes edges forward being held by the brakes. And then they are released and we leap off, accelerating quickly, and into the air, giving gravity the two fingers. We bank to the north, I get the great views of London along the river before we rise above the clouds and Merrie Olde England is lost from view. Other than the occasional glimpse through gaps in the clouds.



At Billund, by crikey it chilly, and the wind is blowing a hooley. Silly me for thinking as its the end of March, spring is here, even in Denmark. It would get worse.

I get a car, and drive to the port where the installation vessel and the first batch of turbines are waiting. Waiting for the wind to drop in fact. News on the grapevine is that it would be like this until the end of the week. No loading.

I decide to eat in the hotel, I am tired and can't be fussed with walking into town, especially now as it was raining. I sit in the restaurant for half an hour. They take my order. Ten minutes later a drink arrives. Half an hour later my meal arrives. Burger. I eat, pay and head to my room. I have had enough, and berate myself for eating in the hotel.