Wednesday 14th September 2016

It was still baking hot. Even at six in the morning when I woke up, roused by my alarm. Outside it was not yet light, but the sky clear and certain it was going to be another hot, hot day.

I showered, packed then went down for breakfast. It was hot down there as well. I had an extra coffee which I would come to regret later.

After paying the bill, I load my rucksack in the back of the car, program the sat nav for the airport. I had 115 km to go, should take just over an hour. Easy.

Or should be, if it weren't for the roadworks near the airport.

I left Husum with the sun just risen in the east, angry looking and dark red. Mist rose in the drainage ditches. I really should have stopped to take a shot, but I was always fretting about not getting to the airport on time. But with there being 40km of single track road, and lots of lorries about, meaning progress was slow.

The road meandered across the marshes, nearing the coast sometimes, until the road just widened into an autobahn and we could accelerate past the trucks and drive at warp factor 9. I was driving no faster than 130kmh, for the most part anyway, and yet at times cars hammered past at speeds that must have been 100kmh faster than I was going. It was frightning to be honest. You look in the mirror and there is nothing there, by the time you have pulled out and halfway past the truck, there was a huge Audi with lights flashing an inch from my back bumper.

I made it to Hamburg, turned onto the busy road which was being reconstructed, and inched towards the airport. As I neared there were plenty of signs showing the way to the hire car return, only for them to vanish. I was back in the city, and struggled to find a way of turning round. I still had over two hours, so not panicking yet.

Yet.

On the second pass, I see the signs and drive into the parking haus, the car is checked over in 30 seconds, I sign, and am free to go.

I walk into the terminal and find that the airline I am with does not allow self check in, so have to wait in line thus negating carrying all my stuff in just one bag. But I get a boarding pass, get a window seat and am free to join another queue through security.

I have mails to read and reply to, so my book is unread: poor Nigel Molesworth. Chiz.

The flight is called, and turns out the flight is less than half full, so we all get plenty of room. Sitting by the window with the sunlight pouring in, it is even hotter; who knew?

It was a short hop to Brussels, and I was sitting in a seat near to the middle of the wing, so I could see little of the ground. Anyway, mostly it was partially obscured my misty haze, so I close my eyes and the plane taxis and prepares to take off.

We arrive at Brussels half an hour late, and I have to get to a meeting in half an hour; wasn't going to happen. Especially as once off the plane and through security, I had to get through the automatic barriers down on the station, and they would not let me pass. In the end I had to queue up at the ticket office and buy a single to Leuven, rushing down onto the platform to make the train.

Once in Leuven I had to walk up the main shopping street, huffing and puffing in the heat, in an attempt to make it on time. although I was told not to worry. I arrive in a ball of sweat, but there are iced cans of pop waiting. I sit down and try to concentrate......

Some three hours later, we are free to go. We walk to the bar in the main square for some refreshment in the form of some trappist beers. Did I mention it was hot? Well it was.

From there across the street is a fast food joint owned by a famous Belgian TV chef that serves only hot dogs. We have two each, and another beer, and all is well with the world. Apart from the heat.

The three of us walk back down to the station, then onto different platforms for our trains. I am with Manu, the train is going onto Ostende, but there are no seats, so we stand in the non-air conditioned vestibule. It is hot. We are glistening in the humidity. Phew.

I get off at Midi and make my way to the Eurostar terminal, able to walk right in, go through security and then wait for the train to be called. There is nothing glamourous about the lounge, more like a canteen with a linoleum floor. It does not recreate the glamour of the grand tour.

The train is called some ten minutes before departure, and I join with the other businessmen into the economy plus carriage where we are presented with a cool drink, and once the train pulls out, a cold meal, wine, coffee, desert and chocolate. Outside the near full moon rises above the city, and as we make our way to France then over Flanders, it climbs higher and getting brighter. Darkness has fallen before we reach the tunnel, but my eyes had already closed and I snored my way to Ebbsfleet.

It is some frustration that the line passes within ten miles of Chez Jelltex, but I have to stay on the train for another half hour, get off at Ebbsfleet and then had to travel all the way back. Only plus side was that I had less than a ten minute wait for a train to Martin Mill where Jools was waiting. The train was full, but I sit next to an off duty train guard, and we rattle on through the night.

Jools is waiting, and she takes me home. But then she is also tired because her boss is on holiday this week and she is doing the job of both of them.

There is time for a brew once home, but as it is now after ten, it is time for a shower and bed. Now back home for 12 days......