The alarm on my phone woke me at quarter to six. I had slept well, but outside I could hear the sound of taxiing aircraft. The airport was working, which was good as strong winds were possible, at least in London. I did not need to look out the window to know it was still dark, it would be dark until it was time for my flight to depart, that was a given. But at least in less than eight hours not only would I be in Blighty, I would be home.
I shower, pack, go down for breakfast, where the choice was three cereals, or rolls. I have rolls. With butter. And Nutella. So goo was that I had another. Full of buttery chocolaty goodness. Lovely. Tow cups of Java and I was set.
I walk me and my two cases along the path to the terminal, I get my boarding pass, check my case in, go through security, and 5 minutes later I am sitting at a table sorting through the latest e mails. The hour long wait passes, I walk to immigration, and once through that is my time in Denmark done for the year! Hoorah.
The plane looks as though it will be empty, until a party of 12 Danish businessmen arrive, all talking at the same time, all sounding excited. Oh well.
Once on board, I take my seat, open up the HJohn Lydon book, and soon am lost in his angry prose as the safety brief is give, the engines start up and we move off. We rush off down the runway, we leave the ground behind, cocking a snook at gravity and lifting into the morning skies, dawn having just broken to the east. We turn and head south where it should be warmer. I hope.
London is busy. Or at least LCY is, I mean London is always busy, but we had to wait 20 minutes for a parking slot, so we do circles above Southend. I take shots of the mud at low tide below us. In truth I could have looked at that all morning. Oh what, we can land now? Oh OK, if we must.
The airport is not too busy for arrivals, so I breeze through immigration, get my case, and arrive at the station to find chaos. Seems like there had been a signal failure, and all trains were, well, unsure of where they might be going next. One arrived on the right platform for Stratford, but said it was going to head back in the opposite direction. It stands at the platform for 5 minutes, I think I saw the matrix sign change to Stratford before changing back, I jump on just in case. Moments before the doors close, the guard announces we are going to Stratofrd, and off we jolly well go, all squeezed up like a squeezy thing, with the two small dogs of the lady beside me, terrified of the noise and number of people.
The train takes its time, taking ten minutes longer to get to the end of the line, by then my train home had gone and I would have to wait another hour. I shrug. Oh well, there's always coffee. Gingerbread latte. With an extra shot. And a sausage roll. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.
At eleven fifteen, my tain arrives. It is almost empty, so I take a seat by the luggage rack, slump in my seat and close my eyes as we move off into the long tunnel under east London. Essex flies by, we pass under the Thames, into Kent. Trees, houses, the motorway flashes by. It is amazing how soon we are at Ashford, then rattling along the classic line to Folkestone and then to Dover.
I get a taxi back home from Priory, the driver is a bit of a grump, but hey, he is taking me home, so my good mood is for both of us. Once indoors, I make a huge brew. Good to be home.
I have to work more in the afternoon, trying to make calls to those who do not want to answer. I write mails instead. I feel like I am up to date, so I switch the computer off. I had mixed some bread when I got back, now that it had risen, I made them into rolls and popped them in the oven, they would be ready just in time when Jools came home and perfect with her home made heart tomato soup. With added bacon.
Yes, home at last, and now have four days before I would have to leave again, on what will be the last trip of the year. Anyway, just good to be home, with Jools and the cats. Oh yes, cats. Jools said Molly had been acting odd, indeed last weekend she was cowering all the time and generally complaining more than usual! I checked her over and it was her rear end that she was sensitive about. But she was eating OK, and otherwise seemed fine, if not herself.
Friday.
I needed the car as I had to see the doctor, so I had to drive Jools to work. Not normally a problem, only there was the storm. The storm arrived during the night, and by the time the alarm went off it was blowing a hooly. We drove off, leaving early, and encountered no problems with traffic, and with the weather, it was fine as long as you kept below 50mph. Which was fine. Traffic was beginning to build at the port, but I thought little of it. I dropped Jools off, turned the car round and headed for home. I put the local radio station on. Traffic problems everywhere. We saw as we crossed the motorway, traffic for the tunnel backing up so bad it had blocked the M20. I drove into Dover along the old Folestone Road, a wise choice as by this time, Townwall Street was clogged with lorries. I stopped at St Martins to get a shot, then drove off in monsoon conditions down Military Hill, through the town centre, up Castle Hill and then along the lane along the cliffs to home. As I crossed Jubilee Way, it was solid from the roundabout, people would be going nowhere for a while.
Back home, I brewed some more coffee and powered the laptop up and began work.
The day passed, I went to the doctors. Came back, wrote some mails. And that was that.
At three I went to pick Jools up, although the weather was now wonderful, there was still massive queues at the port and the tunnel. So I took various lanes and back roads to Hythe, and waited for Jools to finish as darkness fell. It was almost dark by four, but hey, its the weekend!
We drove home via Saltwood and then up the Alkham Valley to River, then through the town and back up by the castle, along the clifs to home. We were home by five, drinking coffee and eating Danish chocolate soon enough. During the day I saw a large wound on Molly's rump, an abscess had burst, but she was clearly in no pain, full of the joys of life, back to normal, just with the wound. It looked clean and pink. We will keep an eye on it, but she should be OK. Probably was another rate bite. At least we knew she wasn't right and were keeping an eye out.
We had breaded aubergine and home made pasta salad for dinner, a nice light meal, and a change for the burger I had three days in a row whilst away. My choice I know.
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