Wednesday 10th August 2016

Ten years ago, I was working delivering dangerous chemicals for a company in Great Yarmouth, it was hard, dirty and dangerous. On top of which the company treated all of its employees like shot, with the exception of the boss' son of course, who could play solitaire in his air conditioned office whilst we toiled in the summer heat. They also saw me a trouble maker, not accepting their mealy mouthed words, and challenging everything when I knew it was BS.

They sacked me on November 5th, after I made it clear that I would ensure that the indoor smoking ban would be enforced from the next July. How would the council know I was asked: I would tell them I replied.

We all believe we are capable of much more with our lives, and I suppose I did too. But no one really gave me the chance.

When I started work for Vestas in 2010, I was an assistant, crunching numbers, needing to deliver results. I did, and I must have shown something, as my boss offered me a full time job that autumn. 6 years on, I am now a manger, and apparently thriving. Who would have thought that? But as part of my usual work tasks, I find myself having to attend meetings on consecutive days in Leuven and then Durham.

The alarm went off at quarter to five again, and it was nearly dark. How the year slips by us without us noticing.

We get up and do the usual chores; feed the cats, make coffee, get ready and ensure, at least on my part, that I have my passport and documentation for the trip.

I am set, so Jools takes me to Folkestone, where I mill mix with the usual commuters on their daily trip up to the Smoke. I, however, just have a short trip to Ashford, where I am to catch one of them fancy Eurostars to Brussels. This does mean retracing the traintracks back to Folkestone until the line dived under the cliffs to France.

Checking in is a doddle there; two members of staff to check tickets, two British immigration officers, two French immigration officers and two people at least manning the scanner for the luggage. All for a dozen or so more passengers. You can see this is why there just four trains a day stopping here now. But then that could be because most stop at inconvenient times of course. All this means I am checked in and throug into the waiting lounge in a couple of minutes, so I decide to have coffee and a sausage sandwich while I wait.

The train is called, and as I have booked standard plus, or whatever the class is called, so I am the only one boarding carriage 11, and once inside I find myself the only one one in half a carriage. As soon as I sit down, a 3rd breakfast is brought to me, along with more coffee. So as Kent slips by outside, I munch on croissant, a jam roll and sip strong coffee. This is work I tell myself.

And being work, I prepare for the meeting as we go through the tunnel, and once out the other side make some calls for details, so I can present the very latest news. Being prepared; there's a thing.

The French countryside is wonderful, but already the harvest is more than half completed, fields now have the appearance of buzz cuts, the sun shines brightly. Soon dark clouds roll in, swept along by a strong breeze, and soon heavy rain if falling. And there is me just with a short and no coat or brolly with me. There was a long walk in Leuven to look forward to, and I could be like a drowned rat by the time I reach the offices.

It passes over quickly, and soon the sun is shining again, but there are more dark clouds about.

We stop in Lille before crossing over into Belgium, and in about 90 minutes since boarding, we roll into Brussels.

I have to rush to find a train to get me to Leuven as soon as possible, as I said I would be there for eleven; there was a local service leaving at half past ten, but stopped at every station on the way, so I looked for an express, and found on leaving in ten minutes with the 3rd stop being Leuven. I walk up the steps to the platform, and stand watching the other passengers and trains coming and going. The train clatters in, pulled and pushed by two powerful locomotives, and each carriage was double decked. Needless to say I climbed onto the top deck to get the best views, then settled down for the fine views over the city as the line twisted through the centre of the city, partly in tunnels, before emerging at Brussels Nord, where we stopped once more, before accelerating to express speed to Leuven.

From the station it is a ten minute walk to the office, and as I'm signing in, I get a text message, "where are you?" from my boss. Outside boss.

Once the meeting was over, we retire to a bar in the centre of town for a refreshing beer, the bar we chose had 20 beers on tap, and claimed to have 2,000 different bottles of beer. We had a couple of strong local beers, and admired the bar, the cellar of which was viewable through glass panels in the floor, which was nice.

From The Capital we wandered around the narrow alleyways in the old city looking for somewhere to eat; most had stopped serving until after six, but we found a burger place that was open, and we all ordered the WTF burger, which had everything, apparently. Anyway, the burgers and frits were top notch, as was the mayonaise too, but then you would expect that in Belgium.

I looked at my watch, three hours before my flight to Newcastle, what to do? Well, there is always make our way to the airport, as my boss also was actching a flight back to Denmark. So I had someone to travel with at least, and talk to.

At the airport the damage from the bombing has been repaired, but there is a high level of security, with everyone carrying a bag into the building having their bags scanned.

I don't understand how different airlines get together and share flights; but anyway I though I was booked on a Belgian Wings flight, but turns out it was a BMI flight operated by Belgian Wings, or was it the other way round? Anyway, it meant that despite there being 50 check in desks available to get my boarding pass, but no, I had to go over to the other side of the airport to stand in line at the single BMI desk, that still wasn't open.

It was a hot and humid afternoon now that the sun had replaced the rain, and I was just uncomfortable in suit and tie. Little businessman, me.

Two hours from flight time, we are allowed to check in; I have been joined by a colelague, Soren, who is also travelling to Newcastle for a meeting on the same project. Once through security, we find a place to to get a drink, as it is so warm, we are both parched.

We climb aboard another tiny plane, something like 20 seats, and Soren an I have seats by the exit on the wing, so more legroom.

We take off into the evening sky, the rays of the setting sun casting long shadows over the west of Belgium. I see large rivers meandering towards the sea, power stations putting forth great plums of steam and smoke, barely moved by the evening air. There is time for a drink and a packet of buscuits before we are dropping down into Newcastle, where we find it is three months later in the year; windy and driving rain.

At the car hire office I am offered a choice between two Mercedes; now I have no idea and so take the one with the in-built sat nav, which I thought was a C Class. But as it turned out was an E Class. Apparently. IN the rain I struggle to find the car, but using the remote one car switches its lights on; it is a huge car, and mine for the next two days.

I settle into the leather seats, put the computer key in the ignition and look for the gear shifter; and can't find it anywhere. It should be somewhere between the two front seats, but there is just more and more storage space. The lights on the dash are sure pretty, but I can't see how to start the bloody thing. On the dash I see indication of what gear the car is in, but no idea how to change it. I then see the letters N, R and D on what should have been the wiper selection, so I turn the ignition on, play with the lever, and put it in reverse, then drive. Pressing in a button releases the parking break, so I inch out of the car park, looking for my hotel.

Across the car park, I see the hotel, so make my way over there in the rain, find the last parking space outside it. I take it, grab it, and make my way inside. It is just gone ten, and I have been up since before five. Needless to say, I am shattered.

I get my room key, so go upstairs with a bottle of diet Coke, and after trying to get the world's slowest internet connection to work, I have a shower and go to bed. Outside, the wind howls and rain hammers aganst my room window. I sleep long and deep.