The alarm went off just before six. I guess I got something close to four hours sleep. But however much I did get, it was nowhere near enough. I got up, I didn't even need to pack as I had not opened my case. Blugh!
I went downstairs, checked out and headed over to Waterloo Station. On the tube to Waterloo and next was the task of getting a ticket for the Heathrow Express. This meant handing over the astonishing fee of £34 for a return ticket comprising of two 15 minute train rides. That this is to Britain's main hub airport means TFL can charge this stupid amount as the Tube takes three weeks to get out to Heathrow, and that is in Zone 27. And then we have to sit and are bombarded with advertising all the way. A complete rip off. But then the company was paying so, I stumped up the cash and took the next train out of London.
When I travel to Denmark, I normally fly out of London City, which is a small airport, you can turn up just over an hour before your flight and still be in plenty of time. Heathrow is a monster of an airport, has not really been planned and has just grown as the years go by. The upshot means that the simple act of checking in and getting through security can take up to four hours!
So, I arrived with three hours to spare, expecting the worse. I went to the SAS desk, there was no queue. I checked in, dropped my case, went up to security and was through in about 15 minutes. Two and a half hours to kill. Best have breakfast. I find a nice French themed place and let the company buy me two glasses of orange juice, two cups of coffee and a big plate of pancakes, bacon and maple syrup.
Hmmm, the world seemed much better after that. I wander round the departure lounge, checking out the hilarious prices of stuff on offer, and the array of perfumes and after shave on sale. Can there really be that many variations? I think they mostly smell the same. Apart from Old Spice, which smells like your Dad.
Time then to find the gate and do the British thing, which is to queue. Its in our DNA. As I like to buck the trend, I sit outside the gate waiting to be the last on the plane, and as the plane is not full, and the idiots have reserved seats at the front ready for a quick exit at the other end, I have three seats to myself, and a window seat.
We taxi off, and trundle to the end of the runway waiting for a slot. And then up we go, roaring down the runway and over London and into the clouds, leaving Britain lost below the cloud cover.
We emerge from the clouds somewhere above the sea approaching Sweden, that makes it the Baltic, no? Anyway, down below we are greeted with fine sight of the coastline, all rock formations smoothed down by the action of glaciers which only retreated last Wednesday. Sweden is heavily forested, scattered with lakes and little red houses before scattered along the coastlines of the sea and lakes.
Once we land, the door is opened and the rush of warm air is surprising. Apparently, Sweden is in southern Spain, or that's what it feels like. Man it is like high summer in England. I take my jacket off. Its still hot.
I get through the border, collect my case and try to find my colleague Anni at the car hire place. I fond it and she is there, having already collected the car keys, so we set off towards the car park to find our car. Imagine my disappointment to find we had not been given a Volvo, but we have a Golf instead. We program the sat nav and set off towards the centre of the city, that is Goteborg. We drive along the tree-lined motorway and into the city centre, finding our way through the inner city traffic system and to the hotel.
The Hotel Apple. Situated beside the main road to Stockholm and the main railway. We check in to our rooms and I find it clean enough, but on closer inspection I see it is tatty round the edges. The sun is shining outside, so we decide to set out on foot to find somewhere to eat lunch.
We have a selection of maps, and so we think we can find our way. We walk alongside the motorway for a while then set off through a housing estate. We have to find somewhere to eat, it can't be that hard can it? We find a tram route and we follow that until we come to a large park. Still nowhere to eat. Anni asks and is told the best cafe in town was down that street.
So we follow another tram line and find a Cafe Paris or something. We both order salad and a diet coke. It was good and to make it better that company was going to pay. But it is still so hot. By now it is late afternoon and the heat is weighing on us heavily. Once back outside, we spy a tower nearby, and sow we decide to head over to investigate.
We find the tower on a hill surrounded by both a motorway junction and the convergence of several railway lines and sidings. Needless to say I was happy enough standing below the tower watching the rush hour trains coming and going. I could have stood there all evening in all honesty.
But we head back to the hotel, back alongside the scenic path beside the motorway. By the time we get back to the hotel, I am all hot again so have the second shower of the day, and its not even my birthday. I meet Anni at half six for dinner. Included in the price of the room is a buffet diner. So we join the blue collar workers who have been hard at work all day, whilst we have been travelling and snapping trams and trains.
I realise how tired I am, after a celebration beer, I head to bed to get my head down and get ten good hours sleep. Good night, Sweden.
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