Being a Monday, better head to Denmark on what is likely to be the first in three if not four weeks in the land of strong beer and crispy bacon. And Jools was starting her new job, But I was so wrapped up in thoughts of my tasks for the day, I forgot to wish her luck, but I remember at the airport so sent a text. Jools dropped me off at the station, I bought the tickets and waiting on the platform for the train, making calls on my mobile so putting out those early morning fires.
I felt in control. Good.
The train arrived early, so I settled into a seat and waited for the departure, squeezing in a call to my boss updating him on the firefighting.
Still in control. Still good.
We moved off into the dawn of the new week, I tried not to think that a week before I was preparing to head to Norwich for the beer festival. But here I was heading to London, with the commuters, drinking their coffees answering mails. Just like me, he said dressed like a tramp.
In London, it was light, I made my way to the airport on the DLR, still felt good. I checked in, went through security, and made my way to a table with a view of the large TV so I could catch up on the news. I ordered poached eggs and a coffee, and so the waiting began. And the eating.
The flight left late, and we were in a queue to take off, but nothing unusual in that. We took off, and for a while London was spread out below before it slipped out of view under the clouds. I read a magazine, and so the journey passed quietly. It is now so routine, I hate to sound blasé, but it is.
Once back on the ground, I was the last one off the plane, and ambled along as I knew there would be a queue at immigration, so if I hurried I would only have to queue there. I signed for a car, walked to the lot, loaded up and was all set for the 45 minute drive to the factory.
Denmark was in all its autumnal finery: trees were golden, and leaves fell like golden snow in the gentle breeze creating a golden carpet between the trees. It would have been wonderful to stop and just look: but I had to be in Varde by two, and time was getting on. I pressed on, and soon arrived, although the customer had missed her flight from Amsterdam, and so we had a couple of hours to kill before she arrived. We filled the time by drinking coffee and swapping stories, about turbines. As you do.
She arrived at three, and so we began a discussion about what we should do over the next day, that done, we broke up and I set off for the hotel in Esbjerg, where I guessed I would eat a burger in the evening. Sadly, the Irish bar has closed, which gives some relief for my liver, and makes the thought of a walk in the Danish evening, with rain sheeting down, somewhat unattractive.
I have burger and beer, and then retire for the evening to spend it in my smoking jacket puffing on cigars and sipping vintage port. Or not.
Tuesday
I am awake so bloody early, so I lay awake listening to the town waking up too. I shower, collect my things and go down to have breakfast, then drive over to Varde, arriving half an hour before the start of the day. And so the merry dance began.
In truth the day went well, by lunchtime the dancing had finished and there were no more questions, and the meeting broke up at two with Mariska driving to the airport, ahead of schedule for a change. I drove to the hotel, climbed into bed and snoozed. As you do, whilst outside, night fell.
That night I went out with two of my colleagues, well friends really, for a meal at the place over the road, and better than anything, Philip picked up the tab. It is so nice to have people to eat with, and to chat and laugh. Yes, a very nice evening, but one filled with too much meat.
Wednesday.
5th November
Bonfire Night (actual)
But not here in Denmark.
Again, awake at silly o’clock, I pack, shower and check out, meet Anni for breakfast and get ready for the short drive to the port. Last time I was here they were digging up the branch line to the port, a shame I thought, that even here in Denmark they are removing lines. But no, they relaid it, put in longer sidings beside the south port, ready for the transportation of turbines, and indeed as I made to turn across the line, a maintenance train was crossing the road, with another load of ballast for the tracks.
The day is one long meeting. We drink coffee. Talk. Drink coffee. Talk. Walk round the site. Drink coffee. Talk. It goes well, and they are satisfied.
All that is left now is to drive the hour or so up to Arhus to another hotel, book into an identical room , look at an identical menu and order burger and beer.
The drive is good, as I make it before it is filly dark, and it feels safer to do that. It rains some, but then it is Denmark in November.
Just time to write some mails, watch some more football before another day of meetings tomorrow. And guess what I’m doing Friday? Yes, more meetings, but also going home.
No comments:
Post a Comment