Saturday 8th March 2014

Thursday.

It is always to get up when it is the day to come home. i leap out of bed, shower, pack, dress and am down for breakfast before seven, and on my way to work in a quarter of an hour. Traffic is light, so i arrive to find hundreds of parking spaces to chose from; I park and make my way through the krypton factor-esque front door and onto the office.

I switch on the laptop to find it every bit as messed up as the day before, and I have to make do with webmail once again. I spend another couple of hours on the phone to IT and they say there is nothing they can do for now.

The day passes and it soon comes time for me to jump into the Clio to head to Billund on the long way back. Just before I leave another news story pops up on the intranet, Vestas are to sell their wonderful new head office and everyone is to move into the Technology building next door. That 44 opened just over a year ago, and impresses all out potential customers is one thing. Another is that Vestas owns the building, and will now have to try to see the world class green office building. Quite how this mess came about it another thing altogether. In addition, a couple of hundred people found out that their jobs are being transferred to Copenhagen by the end of the year, and their have to move there of find another job. There were more tears. All this stuff was supposed to be behind us.

In a change, I have a business ticket so I am to have the key to the lounge, soft seating along with free food and beer. As so have the half dozen colleagues I travel down with. We sit there talking over the troubles facing the company, and with our small part of it which will soon be cleaved off and joined at the hip to MHI. Exciting times, with many lumps and bumps along the way one suspects.

One by one we leave the lounge as our respective flights are called. At half five our flight to London is called, and I make my way down to the gate to board, climb into my seat and snooze the flight away.

We take off on time, and leap into the air soaring up over Legoland, turning over the town and up and away towards Ribe and all points south. The light is soft and golden, but the land is soon lost under a thin covering of mackerel sky. I close my eyes and snooze, waking up only to accept a free mini bottle of Johnny walker Red with which to while away the flight with.

we make a large turn over Essex and then turn down the Thames getting lower and lower in the twilight. Traffic is bumper to bumper of the Dartford Bridge, showing that the friday rush hour is at its peak. We zoom lover over Southeast London, skimming over the river before bumping down on the runway. We taxi to a slot at the wrong end of the terminal, but a bus is waiting. The pilot had told us we were in a queue of flights, but once in the terminal we find no queue at immigration.

I find that my bag had a priority label on it, so was waiting for me, I grab it and head to the DLR station and onto Stratford. I get a set on the train, and call Jools to confirm she had lost her job and the new surrounding that. It sucks, but there really is nothing we can do other than cope.

I reach Stratford with ten minutes to spare before the seven eighteen train to dover was due, so I amble down onto the platform to take up a place at the far end where the dover coaches will stop. I even get a seat on the train, and so close my eyes as we roar under east London heading towards Dagenham.

Jools is waiting for me at Dover, we head to the Hythe Bay restaurant as we had a coffee there Sunday and thought the menu looked interesting, being mostly seafood. Jools had booked a table, but we find ourselves the only customers with the choice of what must have been 50 tables. We take one overlooking the harbour and the eastern docks. I order fish and chips, Jools has grilled fish, which looked great.