It was to work as normal on Monday, arranging the final details and then heading back home for a quiet night and then all systems go in the morning.
Jools dropped me off in town so I could pick up the hire car, and then travel back here and book up travel through the tunnel. All was going well until I forgot the security code for my company credit card and I was locked out. And so I had to call the card’s HQ in Sweden to reset that, go back online, book tickets again, pack and then set off.
Halfway to the tunnel I realised I had not got my passport, and so I had to head back home, find passport and set off again. In the end I made my booked trip with half an hour to spare; enough time to get a magazine and a coffee before it was time to board. Once loaded I worked out my route against an atlas; I had go one from the AA, but always est to remind yourself of towns to be heading for in case I missed a turning. And then we were in France, unloaded and on the open road.
First, north along the coast past Dunkirk and Ostende, and then inland to Antwerp, and the twelve lane ring-road night mare. After exiting the Kennedy tunnel, the driver is confronted with motorways joining, leaving, bridges, railways, trams all cross the motorway on bridges, and with tens of thousands, apparently, of crazy Belgian drivers in cars and trucks all competing for a bit of road, and all in driving rain; I was not enjoying myself.
As I headed into Holland, the rain eased, and traffic thinned a little, and I did begin to enjoy the trip a little. I stopped for a comfort break somewhere between Brega and Utecht, and then thought about the difficult next part; picking up my boss at Amsterdam airport.
When I suggested driving to the meeting, I did not really expect my boss to go for it, and so the plan to collect him at the airport; a major European hub was just a detail, but heading towards Amsterdam the reality became all too clear. I went past Amsterdam and took the airport turn off, but the traffic never got really heavy. I received a text from my boss saying he had arrived, and as I pulled up at arrivals he walked out of the terminal and to where I was waiting. All too easy.
So, we headed off towards our hotel, less than 30km away; he brought a sat-nav, and with that and my map we arrived within 20 minutes. He insisted I have the suite; and I did not argue, and walked the six flights to the top floor.
I am not used to such things, a huge bed, sofa, spa bath, shower, I pod dock, huge TV and mini bar. And a balcony. And all mine!
I met my boss down in the bar and we went to stretch our legs with a constitutional. Ijmuiden is a port, and a gateway to the canal system; it is industrial and pretty ugly. It was overcast but not raining. We walked to the locks, and then along the side of the canal for a kilometre, before walking back through the town to the hotel. I had a beer in the bar and then went upstairs for some luxury in my room.
We met up early evening for dinner, and very pleasant it was too. I had an Italian salad followed by fine steak and fries. It was very nice, and washed down by a bottle of house red, which was rather good. And then back up to my room to watch the Spurs v Real game; and Spurs were already 1 down and playing with ten men. It only got worse. Oh well.
Next morning was cold and foggy; seagulls roosted on the roof above my room and were awake at five and so then was I. After breakfast we headed out to the offices where we were to give our presentation; we found it via the sat nav and set up the computer and stuff. And within half an hour of powerpointing had our audience drifting off to sleep. Mwah ha ha…..
We finished just after lunch, and after a de-brief I packed my stuff, loaded the car and under clear blue skies we headed back the way we came, me dropping the boss off at the airport and then me heading into the setting sun towards Belgium and northern France and the train home. As before, it was all going well u ntil I got to Antwerp, and it being rush-hour the roads were grid-locked, and it took what seemed like ages to get through.
Once through the tunnel and heading across the Flanders countryside, the traffic thinned and with temperatures in the low 20s, I really began to enjoy the trip.
Once in Calais, I stopped off that the supermarche for dinner and then another quick blast to the tunnel, into the queue for the next train and back in Kent in under an hour and home ten minutes after that.
Not bad, not bad.
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