Thursday 8th September 2016

As I said on Monday, the world is returning to normal. Or at least my world is, trains running between Dover and Folkestone, and flights to and from London City and Billund. This meant that all being well, I would be home for about midday.

That said, after seeing my flights home disrupted for so long, I am so used to booking nights in either Esbjerg or Arhus the night before the flight, I forgot that when things did return to normal, I would have to be at the airport before seven in the morning, thus requiring getting up at five to make the drive.

I cursed my stupidity when the alarm went off at five, or four in UK time. It was dark outside, but the city was quiet. I check the internets, make sure that the end of the world wasn't due that day, then get dressed and pack before going down to check out. NO breakfast for me, nor any coffee which did mean my eyes were looking quite red. But hey.

The roads were empty, but already Danish workers were already waiting in line at bus stops, but buses themselves were thin on the ground. From the hotel it is straightforward to get out of the city, taking the main road out to the Arhus South junction, then down the motorway before turning off at junction 57. I remember this number thanks to Heinz, of course.

Day was creeping over the land, and traffic heading to the city was building, but on the southbound, it was light and I make good time, listening to the local rock station, until its repetitive nature had me switching it off.

As I neared the airport, fog began to build, and there is the worry that maybe the flight would be delayed, but the sun, once up, will burn it off. Once checked in and through securty, I buy breakfast in the lounge, and take a table to eat the cheese roll and drink coffee whilst checking mails on the computer.

The flight is called, and much to my surprise the flight is nearly full, all business types. And me the untidy ruffian. We strap ourselves in, listen to the safety announcement, and the engines start and we're on our way.

Once in the air, Denmark is part shrouded in mist, clinging to the pine woods, and draped over the harvested fields. In fact all of western Holland and Belgium is also partly hidden by mist. I try to take some shots inbetween mouthfulls of 2nd breakfast served on the plane. Oh yes, this is the life.

To my surprise, we turn onto final approach, and run over Essex and into the Thames estuary, not turning to approach from the west, so no views of London for us. The M25 was busy as hell, I sanp it as we pass over Grays and the Dartford Crossing leaps over the river.

We bounce down, park at the farthest corner of the airport and wait for collection by bus. The sheep are all queueing to get off depsite the fact we will all get on the same bus, so such silly behaviour was not neccessary, but still they do it. Maybe its how they climbed the greasy pole?

Being the last on the bus means I am the first off it, almost as if I planned it. Through immigration, grab my bag that was waiting, then have a couple of minute wait for a train to Stratford. I had missed the Dover train by eight minutes, so 52 minute wait, best got and have a coffee and a slice of Bakewell Tart, which I think I deserved. There was no one to disagree with my inner monologue.

I check mails, send out some, then on my laptop prepare an important mail, ready to send once I am home.

Time to go down onto the platform, to watch the Eurostars hammer by, and enjoy the sunshine in the concrete box that is the station. The train arrives on time, and despite being quite full, I get a set on the right hand side, handy to see the viaduct once we get near to Dover.

I had a taxi waiting for me at Dover, and it was a real pleasure to carry on sitting on the train through the two stations in Folkestone, then carry on through the three tunnels to Dover, emerging from Shakespeare Tunnel, over the new viaduct and round the bend into Harbour Tunnel. It still takes an age to trundle through it, before crossing over to arrive at platform 1, which was clogged with people waiting for the next train to London.

The taxi driver asked if I minded going up along the cliff road back home. As it's my favourite way to go home, I said carry on. The mist meant we could not see France, but ships and ferries could be seen. The sun shone down through the mist making it a very pleasant lunchtime. And I was home too.

I make a brew, have lunch and then send mails. As I had been in meetings or offices all week, I though I would go out for a walk. I felt the need to look for butterflies.

I felt I had been cooped up for weeks, so thought that I should try for Kingsdown. But forgetting that setting out at one in the afternoon was the hottest part of the day, and carrying no water, meant I was was hot and bothered by the time I got back home.

Still, the countryside is bone dry, no water anywhere, and the colours are very mutes as I walk over the fields to the dip, walk down and up the other side.

I was hunting butterflies, in particular Adonis Blue. I may have seen a couple of faded ones, but saw many others: Speckled Wood, Small Copper, Comma, Painted Lady, Common Blue, Red Admiral, Adonis Blue, Clouded Yellow.

Across the fields, then taking the short cut to the start of Kingsdown Leas, past a field that was being spread with stinky muck. It is the countryside after all.

The Chinooks flew over, but only having the macro I don't get good shots. Until I arrived at the cliffs, white cliffs towering over azure sea.

I was chasing a Clouded Yellow when I see it settle on a flower; was that an orchid spike? Yes it was, and then I notice all around me, dozens of Autumn Lady's Tresses, all standing tall and proud agains the background of the mown turf. I get down to snap them, the butterfly forgotten, as there were groups of up to half a dozen spikes. The last hurrah of the orchid season, then.

I see a couple of blues, not shif they were old Chalkhills or Adonis as their wings were so tatty, so no lines at the edges could be seen, and neither felt inclined to open their wings. Happy with that, and as the wind was really too blustery for macro work, I turned round and walked home back along the same paths I had walked out on. However, I forget to take water with me, and once out of the wind it was so warm, I began to feel very lethargic indeed. But I pressed on, back to the top of the dip, down to the bottom and up the other side. Over the fields to home.

I open the back door, and make myself a pint of orange squash, down that in a couple of gulps, so make another. Phew, it was a scorcher.

It was half four, and time to get ready for dinner, or prepare dinner as there was no way was I wearing white shirts and tails on this particular evening. Once we had eaten, we retire to the back garden where it was cooler, to watch the sun set and the stars come out. The scene was lit by a quarter full moon, showing how much time had passed since I last saw it.