I guess I could go into detail about what happened in work on Wednesday and Thursday, but if I did that for every day at the office, this blog would soon get dull. Or duller.
I was in work at half seven and after yet more coffee got down to work, crunching numbers as data does not analysis itself you know. Outside the clouds had cleared, and the sun beat down on Esbjerg. At the dock the installation vessel for our next project was being loaded, so I went out in the afternoon to take some shots for use later on for work. Oh, I just happen to have some to show you here too.
After work, I headed back to the hotel to only power the computer up again so I could check in for the flight for Thursday, so I could get a window seat on the starboard side so I could snap central London as we turn onto final approach. Later whilst we were waiting for our food at Dronning Louise, I tell Gary this. He asks how can I be sure that the plane will approach from the west. Oh, I reply without thinking, I have checked the BBC website and it will be from the west. Instantly realising myself revealed as a freak interested only in photography.
Now, that may be the truth, but some things don’t need to be shared with work colleagues.
We were sitting outside Dronning Louise in the evening sunshine. They had put up huge umbrellas, and underneath lit patio warmers. And in addition, blankets were placed on each chair lest the patrons feel the chill. I looked round at all these burly Scandic men, wrapped in blankets shivering and wondered could these really be the descendants of the Vikings? I sat in jeans and t shirt and was warm enough. And as soon as I bit into the chilli burger I warmed up even more.
It may not surprise you to learn that we went to Paddy’s afterwards for a couple of pints of Kilkenny and watch the Celtic game on TV. It was a nice end to the day.
Thursday.
I woke up at seven ten, and decided to lay in bed some more, listening to the world outside my window waking up. That required some more laying in bed to be done.
I got up, packed, went down to reception and checked out. 5 minutes later I was in work, and hitting the coffee. Man, I could have laid there all day. And so I raced to complete all tasks before it was time to head to the airport. Turns out the ‘oh fuck it’ moment was twenty past one, when I closed the computer down and bid my friends farewell and made for the car and the long journey home.
It was a glorious day, unbroken sunshine with a gentle breeze. I drove to Billund, and thought I would try to find the local church. I failed to find Billund kirke, but I did see signs to a different church: Grene Kirke. I headed down a leafy lane to a small village, the church stood in a well kept churchyard. I parked up, took some shots outside, tried the door and finding it unlocked, I go inside to snap it.
Happy with the results, I headed back to the car and then to the airport. I drive past Legoland, and it would appear that the half of Denmark not laying beside a pool in Spain are here, and it looks busy but fun.
In the airport I grab a snack and crack on with The Drowned World, and as I really don’t like it, just want to finish it and get it over with. Once my flight is called, I have a dozen pages to go, so I save them for the flight. Turns out the flight is only a third full, with just 12 passengers, so we sit wherever we want. I have the seat I booked, and happy with that settle down for the flight and the cruise over London to come.
Just as planned, we dropped from cruising altitude along the Essex coast, crossed the Thames and flew over Ebbsfleet, Bluewater and south east London, before turning, a little earlier than I wanted, as once we reached the river we turned again over Tower Bridge and dropped lower as we neared the Isle of Dogs and the airport.
A short wait at immigration, and I have 40 minutes to get to Ashford for the train, which I make easily and have enough time to call in the coffee shop on the station for an iced coffee which I drink on the platform. Nice.
I get a seat in the front coach and flick through the pages of a discarded Evening Standard as we zip through Essex , under the Thames and into Kent. Jools was waiting at Dover, and we headed home. Wisps of mist blew in from the sea, and on the patio it was nice and cool as we sipped a hot drink. For me it was a pint of tea as the small dinner cooked away in the kitchen.
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