Monday 14th November 2011

We left the office at two. The sun was now shining, but getting low over the horizon. All was well until we got onto the motorway, when the banging began. We pulled over expecting to see a flat tyre. But it was a panel that was loose and was banging when the wind caught it. We had a choice, call the recovery truck or drive slowly so the banging didn’t begin.
Thankfully, the panel only began to bang at 90km/h, and so we trundled along at 80, and the rest of the world rushed past us. But, we did get there, eventually, and in time for Philip to fill in the accident report. See, on Wednesday, he reversed into a wall. We thought nothing about it at the time, only annoyed at the damage caused by a 5km/h impact.



I checked in, and by the time I was eyeing up the bar in the departure lounge, my boss caught up with me and told me to try the business lounge. Worth a try!

So, we walked up to the desk, presented our tickets, and after a while we were allowed in. And there was a beer pump, but the other way round; we could pour our own beer!

FOR FREE!

Free Christmas beer and snacks. Even free wine, spirits and coffees. So, I had a couple of beers and once Philip left to catch his earlier flight, I watched the sun set over the airfield. My flight was called, and made my way down to the gate; we had to wait for a while, but we were let on half an hour late, and the 17 of us were allowed on the flight.

Wine with your meal, sir?

Yes, please.

A glass of whisky or brandy, sir?

Yes, please.

Oddly enough I was getting sleepy again.



We flew down the north sea coast of Denmark and Holland. From my window seat I could see the lights of the towns and cities below reaching to the coast. Moonlight glinted off the sea, and the winking lights of ships could be seen. Needless to say, England was shrouded in cloud, and as we approached London we descended through thick clouds. I could see nothing out of the window; the engines roared and the plane was heading for the ground at a 30 degree angle. My heart paced. I caught a glimpse of the soon through a gap in the clouds. And back into the cloud.



Then, at the last minute well after the landing gear had been lowered, London Docklands came into view; we flew low over a bridge and then we were down.

After taxiing to the terminal, we climbed out to find our bags waiting for us already. Through customs, through arrivals and along a corridor. I swiped my oyster card, climbed the stairs and onto the DLR platform. A direct train to Stratford came along, and I even got a seat. And within 45 minutes of getting of the flight, I was climbing on a train heading to Ashford. Jools came to pick me up as there was no connection to Dover, and we headed along to M20 towards the coast via Burger King as we were both hungry.

And that was my three days away in Denmark; mostly good, but with some bad news.

To be honest, with the time difference, and general lack of sleep, I was shattered and headed to bed after a shower. Next morning, we laid in bed until half seven, and then time to face the day. That I still felt crap was not good, and after managing to make a coffee or two, I sat down to look at the shots I had taken in Denmark as usual whilst listening to the radio. Jools took Molly to the vets; turns out she has an infection, but a shot of something set her right, and within 6 hours was back to her bouncy self. I made another loaf of Tiger Bread for lunch, which was great with melted butter and fig jam.



That evening, I sat down to watch England play Spain, the world and European champions, and won. Not that England played that well, but did enough, defended well and scored. Without the pube-headed, potato-faced shrek-a-like Wayne up front. We’ll take anything.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear; we headed to Kings Wood for a walk and to look for fungi; and there was lots and lots to snap. The light shone through pale green and golden leaves still hanging onto branches. I snapped away.
It would have been very pleasant but for the packs of dogs that were running around pissing and crapping and trying to mate with each other. Calls of their desperate owners could be heard through the trees and another dog ran away. One would have thought that if a dog could not be controlled by voice commands, it shouldn’t be let off the lead. But then what do I know?

We headed back to the car and then back to Dover and lunch. Steak and ale pie with fresh veggies and roast potatoes. Just what we wanted to eat I have to say. No football on in the afternoon; so we sat down to watch the new adaptation of Sherlock Holmes, whilst outside the mist and fog rolled in.

And that was your weekend……………