Friday 16th August 2012

And so, after two days back in the old routine of driving to and from the office and being home with Jools and the cats of an evening makes me feel much better and life feels more like it should. Once upon a time I thought travelling would be great, staying in different places, generally widening my horizons. And indeed it does, but a business hotel in Warrington does not stretch the envelope much, and it is sort of depressing, a hotel filled with a couple of hundred travelling business types who sit alone, eat alone and have no interaction except when two of them occupy a lift at the same time, and then the rules state no eye contact must be made.

I had the comfort of the new Robert Harris book, and so I dived into that inbetween writing reports. The food was OK without being dazzling. And so it came as a relief to check out on Wednesday and head to the office for five hours or so of work before the taxi turned up to take me to North Bank Station for my trip south. My reserved seats said I had to change at Crewe to sit all the way to London; I took my chances and got a slightly early train and against the odds got a seat, two seats in fact, but no window to look out of. I mean, this was a train that had travelled all the way down from Scotland, travelling through some of the finest landscapes in Britain and 16 people in each carriage had a view of a wall. Can it be so hard to get seats to match up to windows? The Victorians could manage it, so why can’t we in the 21st century?

I was able to see a sliver of the window for the seats in front, and so we passed down the Trent Valley to Rugby and then to Milton Keynes which we past at full tilt. And then under the M25 and into the suburbs and into Euston. I got out and route-marched along the Euston Road to St Pancras, realising that I had just missed a train to Dover, so I did what all top blokes do; go into the Bechamin Arms for a pint before heading to the Southeastern platforms to catch the Margate train and getting off at Ashford.

The Essex and then Kentish countryside flashed by, rain fell, and I dozed. A two minute wait and I was on my way to Dover, along to Folkestone, through the chalk and along the side of the Channel, and then the harbour with the castle high on the cliffs came into view.

Jools was waiting, and off back home we went; I was shattered and good enough to just slump on the sofa.

Now, after two good nights sleep, helped by the fact it is dark until just before half five now, I feel human again, and having got my work done, the weekend is really near. Outside the sun is shining, and there is the promise of a long, hot and sunny weekend. We’re off to London tomorrow, this time I will be taking lots of photographs and have a few ideas of places to visit.

And tomorrow sees the beginning of the football season (see previous post), and my team will be trying once again to stay in the Premier League, this time without Paul Lambert’s hand on the tiller. We’re being tipped for relegation by most pundits, but this is what they said last year. I have no real expectations, but I hope we won’t get embarrassed, like last year. In the end it was just Citeh who spanked us (twice), but a new slate and really, anything could happen. As for the rest, the title will be between the two Manc clubs, the usual suspects will be chasing for crumbs, whilst those mere human teams will be scrambling to avoid a relegation battle. So, after the excitement of last year’s cruise to survival, it seems that every year it will be the same. RvP has moved to United for £24m the first ‘big’ move in what is now the traditional end of transfer window scramble.

And so, the weekend awaits. Sorry about the lack of pictures this week; the hotel in Warrington was really just as bland as you would imagine……