I spoke to Mum on Sunday, It was Mother’s Day, and she said they had has 18 hours of snow, although not much had laid. So I thought little of it, even when I saw that light snow flurries were forecast for Sunday in Kent. So, waking up at five fifteen Monday morning there was half an inch on the ground. And although it wasn’t much, it did make the drive to the station interesting.
I got the train to Stratford in a blizzard, but by Ashford the ground was clear. And so it was in London, so the flight left just 15 minutes late and soon we were in the clouds with the ground lost in the cloud below. So I did out the Foxy book and am soon swept away by it. Fleet Street Fox is a reporter and a blogger and began blogging and tweeting as her marriage went down the pan. The blogs became to frame of the book and she got a deal. Anyway, I laughed like a toilet a few times, annoying the business types trying to get their laptops working.
Some of Denmark had had snow, just a dusting, and the edge of the dusting was at Billund, so away to the north verdant fields glowed in the sunshine, whilst to the south it was snow fields. We bounced on landing and were soon getting off and collecting our luggage. I got a Renault Scenic this time, which is spacious and an automatic, and the 30 mile to Esbjerg was a pleasure.
In a surprise move, I drove straight to the site to get some work done rather than go to the hotel. And did a good three hours, or a bad five hours which is more the truth…..
Driving to my hotel, it was light still, which is very nice and gave the impression spring is on the way. That would be shattered early next morning, though…….
I am in a new hotel, The Britannia, which is a British themed place, or is on parts, but is as British as the Queen. The rooms are nice and spacious, with wonderful bathrooms with a huge shower. I head out as the Irish bar is the other side of the square; what could go wrong?
Well, last week I met local character #1; the librarian/record collector guy with those ‘interesting’ theories about gravity and the Nazis. This week is was drunken local idiot. I say that, but that is wrong; he’s someone who should be in a home and on medication, not drinking pints of beer and lecturing the walls. I thought he was trying to cadge a pint so I offered him a beer in order to shut him up so I could read my book. Two oldish Irish blokes called me over, told me not to bother. They explained and we chatted and one drink lead to another and another and another. Oh, the Kilkenny goes down real well.
So, I head back to the hotel for dinner and head to bed soon as I can.
I had to drive to Arhus early on Tuesday morning; I set the alarm nice and early so I could take my time with the 110 mile drive. Only I forgot I don’t change the time on my phone so its not twenty to five, its twenty to six.
PANIC!
I have to be there in two hours, find the room and not look flustered. I go down to the car park and gasp at the cold. I start the car up and the dash read minus 14! I head off into the dawn, all along the eastern horizon showed where the sun was going to come up, it looks glorious against the deep blue sky and against the snow. Temperature climbed to minus ten.
I got there in time and bumped into my boss who guided me to the meeting room, and so was in time. Phew.
Six hours later, and no better informed about the all new shiny SAP audit database, it was time to head home, in a blizzard, back to Esbjerg and the hotel. Dinner eaten, it is time to watch Mr Messi weave his magic and rescue Barca. Again.
Wednesday
Well, Tuesday in fact. It seems all Barca needed was Messi and some other guys to make up the numbers. Not quite true, but the little fella is on another plane as far as football is concerned and is in the best team in the world. So it goes, so it goes. They ran out 4-0 winners and so go through to the next round at Milan’s expense.
Woke up on Wednesday to about an inch of snow, and I had to clear the car of the white stuff. These MPVs are great, but what’s the point if even at five foot ten I can’t reach the middle of the windscreen to clear the snow? The roads were sheets of ice, but the car coped, and so I got into work in one piece.
Later in the day, my back really began to complain, even when sitting in a proper office chair: once I had done all my meetings for the day, I headed back to the hotel a couple of hours early. I grabbed a pot of coffee on the way up to my room, and slumped in one of the armchairs to get back into Foxy’s book.
Diary of a Fleet Street Fox (ISBN-10: 178033656X) is a rip roaring, partly truthful tale of one tabloid journalist’s journey through a divorce whilst trying to hold down a job. It details the messy way, and in places very petty, the collapse of a marriage and the way couples fight over the most trivial of things and how in the fall out, friends and family have to take sides and just how it makes us feel inside.
Of course it did bring to my mind my two divorces; and how petty and trivial they were for the most part. Sometimes it just pays to realise just how happy I am these days and thankful I don’t have to go through crap like this again, or I certainly hope so. What she found out, and certainly something I realised about my ex-wives, is at some point you come to realise you don’t actually like them as a person any more. At that point the relationship is doomed. That in her case she found out her husband was having an affair and just about caught them in bed, means for her the moment was sudden, for most of us it is a gradual realisation.
Anyway, once I finished the book I went out for a walk found a chemist and go a bottle of 100 ibuprofens For my back and then walked some more until I came to the railway station. I snapped that an a train waiting at one of the platforms. Happy with that I headed back to my room to take some drugs (for my back) and then lay on the bed for them to kick into action.
At six I headed over the square to a place that had been recommended to me as being better than the hotel. Inside I met both the site assistants, who had recommended the place, and so once we had got a table we ordered our food and drinks and just chit-chatted. Business travel means, for the most part, spending the evenings alone in silence as we sit at tables, waiting for food, reading alone or looking at our I pad. It’s a lonely life at times. So, having two people to talk to was a pleasant change, as was good food and local beer.
Once we finished, I headed back to the hotel to watch the Arsenal game on TV, but I only saw the first half as I fell asleep all though the second half and woke up to some Danish chat show blaring out.
This morning the sun shines down from a cloudless sky, onto what feel like tundra cold Esbjerg. The car said it was minus seven this morning, and I had frost to clear from the windows before I could drive back to the office.
And Friday dawns, without a cloud in the sky and the sun shining down from a deep blue sky. It’s cold enough to freeze yer balls off, mind. Just minus four this morning, and another layer of frost to scrape from the windscreen. But, I was in good spirits having checked out of the hotel and with both cases with me, I am heading home this afternoon. I have been warned of heavy snow next week here, which means, maybe flight delays or cancellations, we shall see. I was asked at the last minute to come back next week, something I am not happy about, but I try to temper that with at least being employed, and it is not like I get my hands dirty or am back stuffing giblets.
Talking of stuffing giblets, it will be 28 years on Monday when I first walked through the door of the chicken factory at Flixton. Little did I know that would change my life; meeting James, who knew Jon, who joined the RAF, James joined the RAF, I joined the RAF, which lead to getting into engineering, which lead to the offshore job, which lead to this quality in engineering gig. I don’t regret anything, as the journey, hard at times, lead here, and I am very happy here, despite my grumblings about travel.
Yesterday was OK, nice sunny day, the snow melted, mostly. And work was OK too, other than being told I HAD to come back next week despite promising myself a week at home. Oh well, I should get to have two weeks at home over Easter then two week back here before the who show partly moves on to Sweden, which is a whole new ballgame. We’ll have to see how that pans out.
I tried to et in the bar the other side of the square yesterday, but it was packed, so went back to the hotel and ended up trying there subterranean bar ‘Underground’, which looks like some East End boozer from the 70s, with dreadful carpet and tired wallpaper. The beer was extra fizzy too, like keg beer. But the burger was good, and I got stuck into a biography of the Bible I have been meaning to read for years. Turns out it’s quite heavy, and takes all my concentration to read to take in the details.
Turns out, the old God, Yahweh, was not the only god, but one of a host, who liked to fight. Canaanites worshiped many Gods, especially Baal, the god of farming, before, in a move that would be repeated, the text of the Torah was changed and changed until Yahweh was the only God and a god that liked believers to kill unbelievers. And until after 7th century BC, the text that became Scripture was not considered such and was altered, edited and greatly added to the emphasise new theology.
Then I watched three hours of football, or tried to but slept through the second half of the Chelsea game, but Spurs, Chelski and The Toon all go through in the Mickey Mouse cup to fight another day. All English clubs are out of the Champion’s League, though.
So, to the Batmobile, let’s go-go!
No comments:
Post a Comment