My phone alarm went off at quarter to six, now where was I? Oh yes, at the Zleep hotel at the airport. I turn the light on and see I had emptied my case of its contents and now had what we in the RAF used to call a floordrobe.
I grab a shower, pack, do a final check of the room to make sure I have left nothing. A quick bite to eat downstairs, some cereal and a cheese roll. And coffee. Sweet coffee.
It is just a couple of minutes walk to the the terminal, and inside it seems to be full of Danes getting ready for more holibobs. I get my boarding card from a machine, and the BA desk had just one person waiting. Once checked in, I pass through customs, pass through the duty free without looking as money is tight, and find a table so I can catch up on some mails. I have an hour to wait until boarding, holiday flights are called, and by the time I walk to the gate the airport is pretty empty once again.
Out on the airfield, mist had rolled in, and above the banks of swirly vapour, the sky turned pink as the sun rose, and just visible was the thinnest of a sliver of the old moon. An altogether beautiful sight. We climb on board, I am at the back, but being a morning flight, there does not seem to be a hurry to get off the other end. I have the John Lydon book with me, so the flight will pass quickly. We take off into the mist, before entering the thich cloud, I get a glimpse of the landscape shrouded with mist, it is a wonderful sight, but is soon lost as we climb higher.
Europe seems to be all covered with mist, I see nothing of the lan below until we begin to drop down towards Essex when I can make out the sea below, and then the familiar shapes of Foulness Island, and then Southend with the pier only half visible in the fog. We cross the Thames and skirt round southern London, turning at Crystal Palace transmitter, just sticking up through the fog, the rest of London was lost from view. I could just make out Battersea, but then after dropping down some more Vauxhall and the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, The Barbican and then the City. It was all hazy, and I tried to get shots with the little camera.
Once down we waited whilst the plane was made safe, then led into immigration, once again no queues, and then the unusual event of waiting for our bags. Once on the DLR station I had another short wait, all the time checking my watch, wondering if I would catch the next train home, or have to wait. In the end I miss it by a couple of minutes, so John Lydon and myself have a gingerbread latte with an extra shot in the cafe overlooking the station and waited.
Being after rush hour, the train I knew would be almost empty, and so it was, so I picked my seat opposite the luggage rack, and settled down to watch the Essex marshes and then Kent slip by as I got ever nearer home.
Once in Dover I had to get some cash, as Jools would be at work for another 5 hours, I had to get a taxi back home. There were at least three wating so I would not have to go into town dragging my cases looking for a taxi office.
All in all, travelling back in the morning is so much better than in the evening, what with there being no rush hour as I travel back from London, being able to get a seat and it being daylight! Will have to do this again.
The cats were waiting for me, telling me they had not been fed in like ages. I give them something to keep them quiet, put on the kettle and get out my work computer to catch up, but thankfully all is quiet. At four, all is done, so I switch it off, make another coffee and wait for Jools to come home. Another week nearly done.
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