Tuesday 14th November 2017

I wake up in my room in the compound. It is still hot in the room even with the radiator switched off and the window open. I can hear rain falling steadily outside, so the drive into work will be fun. I get up have a shower, get dressed and go down for breakfast. THe hotel is full here too, and with many colleagues too, as they all have branded clothes on, except for me who looks like a tramp. I have fruit, cereal and a chocolate roll and two coffees.

THe drive to the office is as bad as I feared, with the ring road stacked up, so we inch along past each junction, until most traffic turns off towards the new hospital, and so I can drive along to the Randersvej junction, go down to the second set of lights and turn into the car park. There are even spaces still at quarter to eight. That soon changes, as in the past few months, we have been recruiting like mad, and most of them have cars, so need more spaces, more office space. And so on.

I have a three hour training course to go on, which takes the day to lunchtime, and bean stealing in the canteen.

I have a document to complete in the afternoon, so I am deleting, spell checking and the rest of the stuff that is needed. I work through until five when all bar three Brits are left working and the cleaners were already out and about, vacuuming and cleaning. Traffic is very light, so I get back to the hotel with no trouble, then have half an hour to kill before I went out. I booked a taxi to take me into the city to meet up with Shaggy.

I go down and the taxi had just arrived, the driver speaks no English, and I speak no Klingon, but we both seem happy with our lot. We go past the outdoor museum where I went in June, past the Art Museum, dropping me off near Highlander, as the driver had no heard of it, and neither had his dispatcher. I knew where it was, so no worries. I pay the man and walk down the hill, cutting through the narrow lanes, past the smoking pub and there is the Highlander.

I go in and shout: Oi, Oi, saveloy! which seemed funny to me at the time. Shags already has a beer, so I join him with a fine Belgian bottled beer. It was going to be that kind of night.

After an hour, we walk along the canal to Bones for some rib action, and more Christmas beer. So good to be able to spend evenings meeting friends.

We walk back to the bar, have another beer. And another beer. Some whisky. Another beer.

Shags is broken, he had gone out to cadge a cigarette, I swear he went out sober, and came back staggering as his legs were not working right. He has one more beer, which possibly wasn't wise; he had missed his train, and seemed confused as to what he should do now. He went outside for another cigarette, we go out to see him and he is angry drunk; not really angry, but confused. I go back inside to discuss with the barman what to do, we go out and he has vanished. Like an old oak table.

I look round, but he is gone, so I get him to order me a taxi, drain my glass and go home, getting back at nearly midnight. I have to be up in six hours. Oh dear.