Friday 16th November 2012 (part 2)

Let me begin by saying that Monday night and all day Tuesday, I felt like shot. I mean I was really ill. Three hours sleep on Monday night and awake at three in the morning running a temperature. Then on Tuesday I had to chair two meetings and take notes, then stuck at work until four until I could grab a lift back to the hotel. I was coughing all the time and due to lack of sleep my head felt like it was stuffed with straw, and I wasn't at my best to say the least.



But everyone at work was concerned, and on Wednesday asked if I was better. I was, slightly, and got nine hours sleep, which helped.

Monday afternoon, I watched a storm sweep in from my balcony and so I took some shots, that night I went to meet my old RAF buddy, this is what I wrote after the event:

"So, how do two guys begin to fill in the sixteen years since they last met? Well, over some Christmas beer for sure.



I last saw Shaggy in January 1996 when he PVRd himself the heck outta the RAF and moved to Denmark. I had connected with him via Facebook, and so knew a little of his life. But he filled in the gaps. Needless to say, he was overjoyed at the Bovril and Marmite I brought, but it seems it is his sons who want the stuff rather than Shaggy himself.

We sat in the bar of the hotel and talked for a few hours, time went quickly enough, but soon it was time for him to leave. I just had time to order a late dinner, venison, which was just wonderful, and then to bed.



It seems that my body is really suffering with this damned cold, and I was awake coughing at three and really only dozed off for half an hour after that. So, I was awake, but no one really home as I met Philip down in the breakfast bar and we headed off for work. I won’t lie, this has been a tough day with my head full of wool, or feeling like it, after so many days of poor sleep."

Wednesday.



It is always refreshing to see how much better life can be after a good night’s sleep. In all honesty, yesterday was just horrible. I was coughing so much, had so little sleep, I was operating on autopilot. And yet I had to chair a meeting, keep notes and look interested. Meh.



So, last night I turned down the chance to go out with Mr J and the rest of the project team for a mean in order to get some sleep, I hoped. I grabbed a shower and lay on the bed. I got 90 minutes zeds. I went down for dinner, had a simple burger and fries, the first carbs I had had all day, and felt a little better. Although the beer did taste horrible, I’d like to think that was down to how I was feeling rather than the Tuburg brewery. I went back up to my room and got into the new Robert Goddard book, and read that for a good couple of hours.



And this morning, after about nine hours sleep in total, I do feel mostly human again, which is nice. Bad news is that I have to come back here next week, so come Monday morning I will be on the early flight out of London City Airport heading to the frozen north again. It does break up my time, and I don’t mind travelling all that much. So, life goes on.



When I awake this morning, the rain was beating down outside, it was still dark and looked like it could be your typical Danish day. And then, once at work, the clouds cleared and now the sun shines down from a clear blue sky, and Randers looks a very different place indeed. I am due to leave here in about an hour and a half for the drive to the airport, and then try to crash the executive lounge and blag some free beer and snacks. I can but try…..

Yesterday was a typical day at work, I plodded on getting stuff done, re-writing procedures and processes, having meetings. I headed off early, about three as I still didn’t, and still don’t, feel 100%. I snoozed and then lay on the bed reading, and finished my book just before seven. I went down for dinner, and again realised at apart from the roll for breakfast I had eaten nothing but fruit. And I could not resist the burger. Again.

Whilst I was finishing my soup, my boss arrived and so we sat and talked our way through the meal. Once upstairs I settled down to watch the England game on Swedish TV; it was a good game, featuring an young England side, but playing a team with just the one class player. Sadly for England, Ibramhimovic finally showed his class in a game on British TV by scoring all four goals in their 4-2 win. Some poor defending, and dreadful keeping helped some, but the tall guy did well. What this means for England depends on whether you are a glass half full or half empty person. Talk of a new golden generation abounded in the wake of the game, but then look at how empty the last one of those left the England trophy cabinet….

And so it was time to begin the trip home. I programmed the address of the airport in the sat nav and headed off. And it all went well; I began driving in bright sunshine, and into the low sun, but clouds soon swept in and it was like someone had turned the lights out and it was twilight. No moody vampires to be seen though.

I even managed to work out how the self-service petrol station worked and refueled the car, found the hire car drop off point. I checked in my bad and went through security and tried to get into the executive lounge; am not an international jet-setting quality expert? Anyway, seems like cost-cutting by Vestas means we don't get to slouch in the lounge, instead I went to the bistro-bar and had a huge Christmas beer and a sandwich on the company tab. What's this meat? Smoked duck. It must be hard to light!

Pardon?

Having to repeat a joke, means even the funniest quip is rendered impotent. But then me and the bartender got to talk about beer and all was well with the world. I had another beer, a double IPA at an eye-watering 9.2%. I knew I was going to sleep on the plane.



I poured myself onto the plane, accepted the food and a small bottle of brandy. A very small bottle I should stress. As we flew down over western Europe, all the land was covered in a thin layer of mist, the lights of the towns and cities turning the clouds orange through their streetlights, it looked surreal.

Over London, streetlights and buildings could be glimpsed though gaps in the clouds, traffic was gridlocked apparently everywhere. As we banked tightly on our final approach, St Pauls was directly below us, and Lloyds was all blue light, like the castle of an evil wizard.

We skimmed over the houses and condos of London's dockland, landed by bounce-bounce-bouncing along and slewing to a trundle and we were down. A huge queue at customs, which meant our baggage was waiting, a rush to the DLR station, a wait of a couple of minutes for a train and onto Stratford.

Another wait of a few minutes for a train to Ashford, jools had decided to collect me from there rather than wait the 20 minutes for a connecting train, and so, it was all over. We drove back home via a chippy on London Road, once in brew up a nice big cuppa and then, relax. It's all over for a few days and then I can do it again.