Saturday 31st January 2015

Wednesday (cont)

The news at dinner is that there is little to do on night shift, so there is little to do until five in the morning. I decide that this might work to my advantage, sleep some more at night, getting up at four, as will have to do at four again on Friday in order to catch my flight, if I can get a seat. As I am told that the work should be done by Thursday evening, so book an earlier flight home. I will find that out on Thursday.

I spend the evening watching more football from England on the TV, then try to sleep from 11, being stirred from my slumber with the alarm going off at half four.

Thursday

My room phone goes, I did say I would meet Mariska at half four, so I rush to get dressed and meet her tapping her feet in the foyer. We drive to the factory and the two QIs are waiting for us. We follow them into the factory, watch as another guy measures a part of the blade, we look at the process documents, and that is it. After half an hour we are done. So, we say thanks and drive back to the hotel, being back in time for the start of breakfast at six.

Plans are made for the day, I will stay in my room as I wait to hear if I can get an earlier flight, on Friday morning or maybe even Thursday afternoon. If it is the latter, I would have to check out. So, I sit in the yoyer, drink coffee and read my book. This was after a good three hours pinging mails back at folks, news comes at midday that I have a flight in the morning as I hoped, so I can now switch to days. The others came back from the factory, all is fine. My room has been turned down, so when I want I will have a comfortable sleep.

To add to the mix, my work phone stops working about 5, as the service provider has been swapped, but although everything should stay the same, it cannot be registered anywhere except in the UK. So, I won't have the irritation of random work calls, but then I can't check mails either. Back in my room as the day grew old and dark, I go for a snooze only to be woken up at half five by a knock at the door, meet in the restaurant for dinner!

So, one last time, we meet up, swap news and that one final inspection the next day is planned, but it is covered so I can travel back as planned. For a change I have fish cakes, which was very nice, followed by a selection of Jutland cheeses washed down by a pint of local dark ale. All very nice, but now I was very tired, my bed was calling, so I bid the team farewell, head to my room, pack a little and get my head down.

Friday.

The alarm goes off at four, I groan, but I am going home, right? I pack, brush my teeth and as I check out there is even coffee on offer. Outside snow is gently falling, could this be a problem? The airport is 45 miles away, there might not be any there.

In the end I drive through whilst not quite a blizzard, conditions were difficult at times, slush and snow still in the road as I made my was across Jutland to Billund to the airport. In places there was little or no snow, but in most there was something like an inch. As there was at Billund, but I had taken my time, left with plenty of time, and arrived at six, some 100 minutes before my flight was due. Inside the terminal I look up at the departure board, no delays were reported, and once through security I look out and see the flashing lights of many ploughs and tractors keeping the runways and taxiways clear of snow. It is packed, even at half six in the morning, I catch up on my mails, and decide to have breakfast on the plane instead of mixing with the crowds.

The flight is called, and just seven of us make our way to the gate to check in, and after ten minutes we board. Once refueled, we start up and taxi to the end of the runway, the engines roar and we lurch off down the runway and jump into the sky, soon rising into the low cloud before we had even cleared the airport perimeter fence.

I do get a glimpse of the ground through the clouds as we pass over the Danish coast, fields are all covered in show. It was the same over the Dutch coast, even the beaches appeared white. As we approached the English coast, clouds were thick below. I did see though a gap in the cloud as we passed over the Essex coast, but the rest of final approach the ground was lost from view. We emerge from the cloud as we skim over the Thames, we cross onto the bank and there is the start of the runway. We touch down, the plane slows and we are down and safe.

Quickly through security and I get my case, through the arrival hall to the DLR station, a short wait for a train through to Stratford. I have time for a coffee before my train, so I take the plunge and change the SIM card in my phone, switch it one, and it works straight away. Messages and mails pour in. Well, that was painless.

The train is almost empty, I grab a seat and watch as we move out of the station and into the long tunnel under the London streets.



South Essex flashes by, we pass under the river and into Kent. That too flies by, I rest my eyes, write couple of mails on the phone. Within an hour we are pulling into Dover. Nearly home. I flag a taxi down, he takes me via Townwall Street and up Jubille Way to the Deal Road, then along to St Maggies and home. I open the door expecting to be flattened by welcoming cats, but it appears they just carry on sleeping. I drag the cases into the house, put the kettle on, and decide I have done more than enough hours in the week, so switch the phone off, make myself a cuppa and go to look for the cats.

The afternoon passes with me listening to the radio, drinking tea and feeding the cats once they wake. Outside it gets dark, so I cook jacket puds for dinner, cooking them for three hours so they are crispier than crisp crisps. Jools arrives home at five, we have dinner, swap news, and the evening peters out until we give ina nd head to bed at none, both shattered from a very long week.