Monday 19th November

Have you seen that film with Tom Hanks where he is stuck in an airport as he has become stateless? Well, today I thought I would try and recreate that film here in the soulless environment of London’s Docklands. Just for a laugh you understand. It seems that, in their wisdom, the company did not book me on the morning flight to Denmark, but the evening one. And having arranged this flight on the fly last week, got Jools to print the e ticket at her office so I could laze around the house in my pants instead of going into work in Ramsgate. Not once did it occur to me to check the flight details; and so I checked in this morning at London City, waved goodbye to my bag. Had a coffee and an ‘ultimate sausage sandwich’ from Costa.

What made this microwaved butty ‘ultimate’? Well, to me it seems that the sausages were only half cooked, which I thought may just liven up my evening at the Scandic. I sat in a comfy chair, read a bit of Caitlin Moran’s new book waiting for the call to go to the gate.

Ten minutes before flight time, we get called. I go down to gate 10, hand over my boarding pass and the machine went bleep. But not in a good way. The assistant looked at my pass; you’re on the evening flight, sir! I looked too, boarding begins at 18:40. How did you check in your bag, we can only hold them for two hours before flight?

I don’t know.

So, I walked the whole length of the terminal back to the bars and tat shops that thrive in an airport; find a set with a powerpoint so I can have my laptop on, and so am looking out of the window as the flight I thought I would be on taxis away and prepares to take off. So, I guess the lesson to be learned is to check your tickets. I mean really, actually have a look at them and try not to make the same mistake as I have.

I now have a fine eight hour wait here; oh look there goes my flight.

Or not.

I have an eight hour wait, and I guess will save myself for lunch, which in all honesty I can’t charge to the company, and think about reading the entire book. But, at least there is a WH Smiths here, so plenty more reading material to choose from. If I am honest, I really don’t know what we did with the weekend. We didn’t do that much with our time. Saturday was a wet and windy day; we went into the garden and cleared the leaves up from our recovering tree. You may, or may not, remember we had it lopped last year as it was getting a bit big. So, that took something like 15 minutes. I baked some rolls for dinner and in the afternoon we headed to B&Q to look at toilets.

It’s all go in our house at weekends. We may be getting some new stuff in the bathroom at some point. But instead of looking at six grand granite baths, we picked a suite that cost something like £240, taps included, and we just need someone to fit it for us. Plumbing, clearly, is some serious magic and needs an expert with a pencil behind his hear and his own tape measure.

Whilst Jools watched SCD, I watched the text on the BBC website as City took on the might of Manchester United, or the Evil Empire as we can call them. Let’s be honest about this, that matchday experience comes in no way close to matching the one of actually being there and seeing the action as it happens, in 3D. But, its all we have, and imagine my excitement as we were about to tuck into our stuffed acorn squash, City did the unexpected and scored the first, and as it turned out the only goal. What followed was me switching between the BBC website and Twitter to follow the updates. And so avoiding having to listen to the commentary on Talksport radio, which really would be grim.

As time slipped away and the final whistle was blown, and I reflected on the fact that we, City, had beaten Man Utd again and or arch rivals had been thrashed 6-0 at Leicester to remain rooted to the bottom of the Championship. How did this happen? Three and a half years ago we were relegated to the Third Division and Town were taken over by a billionaire, and Roy Keane was put in charge. We should have been doomed.

And yet, after that infamous 1-7 thrashing by Colchester, the appointment of Paul Lambert as manager, and over the next eight months we ended up as champions and promoted. Another fine season followed and promotion again. And Town just stagnated. Players were bought. More players were bought, and their results got worse. In our single season back in the Championship, we beat them 4-1 and 5-1. And although it was sweet, we knew we were heading for bigger things.

And we got promoted. And then survived. And we now have a second season in the Prem, this time with a new manager, and things may be turning as we kept another clean sheet.

All this got be thinking as to where did it all start going right? So, after SCD, I put on the DVD for the 2009-2012 season and watched. The change was gradual, and apart from the appointment of Lambert, the real turnaround was coming back from 2-0 down against Charlton to draw 2-2. Whatever it was, whenever it was, the self-belief spread through the team, and players that could not get in the team four years ago are now playing in the Premier League, and thriving. Such is life. So, I ended up staying up and watching City on Match of the Day; we were second on which means we either got a spanking or there was a huge upset. Thankfully, it was the latter.

Sunday morning, we headed out to Kearsney Abbey for a walk in the bright autumnal sunshine. It was a glorious day, and many of the trees still had a coating of golden leaves. Needless to say, I took many shots as we waned over the road to Russell Gardens and onto Bushy Ruff. We also called in on the spot where a friend of mine has been laying down seeds and nuts for wild birds and squirrels, so he can take photographs of them. I took some seeds and nuts to add and to take some shots. At one point there were 5 squirrels, three jays and a couple of magpies along with a large assortment of finches and tits all coming and going.

And in the afternoon, we decided to buy some new photographic equipment; a new telephoto for me and a new compact for Jools. They should arrive for the weekend and so can’t wait to try them out, of course. Its my own fault for needing a new lens; I dropped my old telephoto a couple of years ago after forgetting to zip my bag closed and as I swung it over my shoulder the lens and camera were launched out of the open bag and looped over my shoulder onto the ground in front of me.



Jools had an old film lens that I have been using since, but its focus is a little soft, and I have not been getting good results especially when shooting wildlife. So, I have a beast of a lens on order, which, if nothing else, will build up my arm muscles as I try to take handheld shots with it.



Which brings me onto another piece of photographic news; I have come away from home with no camera. No camera at all; I have even managed to forget my work’s mobile. I decided against taking Jools’ compact as opportunities for shots are limited with work and it getting dark so early now. So, I have decided to sans-camera and just go and do work. Or as best as I can as I can’t get the wi-fi at the airport to work and none of the plug sockets here seems to e working so the laptop battery is getting flatter by the minute.

There is a door here at the airport marked ‘rhubarb’; now, I am wondering if it really does contain rhubarb. I think its unlikely in November. I did look along the corridor to see if there was another door marked ‘custard’. But no. An hour has now passed since I tried to get on the flight, and I have seven hours or so to go, and just 40 minutes left on my battery. I guess I should go and try another outlet. Sigh.



Its going to be a long, long day.

*six hours pass*

And it is now five in the afternoon; I have two more hours to wait. I have no found a working socket and an internet connection so at least I can do some work. I had lunch and read most of the book. I will have to buy another before I leave I guess.

Outside darkness is falling, and the perrytack and runway lights are bright, as are the lights of the hotel the other side of the old dock. The lounge has filled up again, as the day’s business travellers head for their homes or offices all over Europe. It has been quite an odd experience to be honest.

I look over at a guy reading a copy of The Sun; the world is shot to pieces, Israel is bombing the rubble of the Gaza Strip into smaller pieces of rubble, the banking system still isn’t fixed, the whole of Europe slumped into another recession and the Sun leads with some judge of The X Factor may, or may not have had an affair with a footballer who sometimes warms the bench for a Premier League team, or was it she was having an affair whilst being in a relationship with the footballer. And does it really matter, the woman, Tuisla or something, was part of a ‘group’ called N-Dubz who may have had one or two hits a few years ago. She is more famous for a sex video posted online and her reply posted on You Tube apologising to all her fans. It will be interesting to see how The Sun Reports Tuesday’s news that Rebeckah Brookes and Andy Coulsen have been arrested again and face charges for bribery of public figures. On which inside page with News International have it buried?

*two more hours pass*



And in time Billund appears on the destination board again, and in time it moves ever upwards on the board until it becomes ‘late’. Or overdue. Then the board changes, and we can go to the gate, byt the time we walk the full length of the building the sign on the gate says it is closing. And then we wait some more as they chase a final passenger, and up we go to the plane.



A stiff breeze is blowing, and as soon as we’re in the air the plane lurches to the left, but we climb up through the clouds. We get an occasional glimpse through the clouds of life below in the east London suburbs, roads choked with traffic, but soon we are away through more clouds and nothing is seen until we are just a hundred feet above the ground approaching the runway in Denmark.

Bounce we go along the runway, and as soon as reverse thrust is n, the plane twitches from left to right but we stay on the tarmac. By the time we get out of the plane, walk up the steps into the building and along through immigration to the baggage reclaim, our bags are already there. I pick up my small case and head out to the car hire place, pick up the keys and head out to find the car.

Thankfully it has a remote door lock, and it works over distances of over 100m and so I see it’s lights as I try to open the doors. I get in, program the sat nav and set off, on the final 77 miles of the journey, through the darkness to Randers where I hope a bed is waiting in the hotel.

It is, and after a quick shower it is already midnight and time to get some sleep before meeting my boss for breakfast in less than seven hours. So it goes around…..

Tuesday 20th November

And another typical Danish days dawns, although quite late at around half eight. Pale light spreads from the east and illuminates the scene outside the office. I have a different desk this week, beside a huge picture window which runs from one side of the office to the other and from floor to ceiling. Sadly, it looks out onto a motorway junction and a car park, but it is something.

I had a meeting all morning where I rambled on and on about quality costs and quality awareness. I must have made an impression as I am now wanted back here for a meeting of the full construction team to present it again. Another trip to Denmark!

It is now late afternoon and it is getting dark again. I say ‘late’ it is a quarter to four and already it is gloomy and misty outside. We may have drinking tonight, as I bailed on the night out last week. The plan is:

1. Beer

2. Snaps

3. Meat and beer

So, good to know there is a plan.

In international news, David Beckham is to quit LA and now the BBC is rife with rumours as to where he will go to next. As David has always gone where the biggest pay cheque is, my money is on a season in China. Five years ago when he joined LA he never was what you would call mobile, now, at 39 he is even less so, and playing in a league where it is now known for pace or quality. Let’s just hope some desperate Premier League team doesn’t think he can do a job for them as we will have to go through the whole ‘Becks’ hoopla all over again. That QPR seen to be on the brink of crisis and have an owner with more money than sense, it now seems obvious it is where he will end up.

And so to Tuesday night; party night in Randers. Or not. After quite some time we arrange to meet in Café Blicker at quarter to seven, and those of us in the hotel at quarter past six to walk into the town. In the end six of us made it and it was hot burgers all round washed down with Christmas beer. Three of us then went to Barry’s Pub for more Christmas beer and to watch the football.

We got roped into a pub quiz and we came joint first but we denied the beer vouchers as the other team had one member less than us. Vincent tried to protest saying he was there just to make up the numbers, but it was no use.

Chelsea played Juventus, and played poorly in a 3-0 loss. In truth, it hardly seems to matter to us neutrals, and enjoyed seeing the millionaires of west London look less than ordinary. As it became clear that the Blues stood no chance, I left for the walk back to the hotel at twenty five past ten, as my back complained, the weather joined in and the drizzle began to fall again.

Wednesday

And so, here I am, all packed, checked out of the hotel with just a half day or so at the coalface to do before I can drive back to Billund for the flight home.