Friday 6th February 2015

Sunday.

Another Sunday, another commute to Denmark. Urgh.

As usual, wake up just as it is getting light, go down to feed the cats and make the first coffee of the day. Outside there has been no snow, but it is cold. Darned cold.

I pack and get ready for the trip, and after watching MOTD, Jools takes me down to Martin Mill station, only to find there are no other passengers waiting. We sit in the car, waiting until 5 minutes before the train is due, only to find there will be no trains, just a bus. In an hour.

I look at my watch, I think there might just be enough time to get to Folkestone where the train is starting from. Jools drives, and I make it to Folkestone West with a couple of minutes to spare. There are many other passengers waiting, but there is no coffee shop, nor is the ticket office open. When the train arrives there is a rush for a seat, I get one, and so settle down, checking my mails as we zoom upto Ashford.



By the time we leave Ashford, the train is full, standing room only, amazing for what was supposed to be a white elephant service.

At Stratford, I have to fight with my cases off the train through the many Arsenal fans on the way to the game. A few will have bruises from my case, as I did not want to be stuck on the train into London.

Onto the DLR, a change at Canning Town and to the airport with an hour and 50 minutes before my flight. More than enough time to sit and watch the hooray Henrys heading off to the chic skiing resorts of Europe with their expensive and bulky skiing gear.



For a Sunday, the flight is busy, nearly three quarters full, but I have my usual seat in 8A, the door is closed, safety brief given, the engines start and off we go. Into the cloudy late afternoon London sky, disappearing into the clouds before we cross the M25. I close my eyes as the engines roar outside.



Nearly two hours later, we arrive at the Danish coast, with just the occasional cloud, the late afternoon sun illuminating everything with a warm light. We fly over the site in Esbjerg, I see the installation vessel for the current project, one of five in the harbor, and then it was gone, lower and lower we went over the Danish snowfields, getting lower and lower, until we touch down.



I had been asked to wait for Mariska, so I had what I hoped would be 50 minutes wait for her flight. I got the keys to the hire car, went to the café for coffee, and waited. And waited. 90 minutes later she appeared through the customs hall; her luggage was missing.



Oh dear. So, nothing left other than to accept it, and drive to the hotel, some 50 miles away, across the flatlands of west Jutland to Ringkobing. It was dark, and icy, but the roads were quiet and dead straight for the most part. We stopped at a Spar sh she could get some supplies, toothpaste, brush, soap, before pushing on to our final destination.

Before going to the hotel, we go to an Italian restaurant for dinner: I have some kind of chicken with saffron and brandy pasta. Was very nice, too good for me. Even better when they say they had a bottle of Von Santo for me to have whilst Mariska has ice cream.

Finally, to the hotel, catch up on mails, have a shower, and bed. Six hours until the alarm would wake me.

Monday.

So, it is still dark at five when the alarm goes off. I lay in the dark listening to the silence outside. Better get on with it then. I meet Henrik at breakfast, before we drive to the factory for the meeting at eight and then more work.

I bail at lunchtime as I am to cover night shift, but receive a call at three to say inspections will not be taking place, so no work for me. Other than the avalanche of mails I am receiving and sending. Each one another fire to be fought or sent on. Life was hectic for a while, but I got through it, found solutions and did OK I believe.

Back at the hotel we meet for dinner, baked cod and chips for me. I treat myself to a beer as I won’t be working that night. That goes down very well indeed.

Back in my room I listen to the transfer deadline day stuff on the radio and follow it on Twitter. All meaningless, really, but it passes the evening before I call it a night, some 90 minutes before the horse trading ended back home.

Tuesday.

Back in the factory for eight, and the news that night shift would be required, therefore after a gentle morning, I head back to the hotel, via the harbor, as from the factory I see that the water has frozen. The water in the fjord is not quite fresh, but not seawater, something inbetween, and with no wind to stir it, the harbor has frozen, to no great depth, but enough to support the weight of a gull or two.



Back in my room, I tackle more work mails, and at two try to get some sleep. Whether I did or not, I am not sure, but maybe half an hour or so, before work strayed back into my consciousness and my thoughts began to race away.

We once again met at half six for dinner, in the hotel restaurant. Now, its not a bad place, but has just four choices for each course, one being fish, and not really liking fish, and as much as I like steak, you don’t want to eat it every night. But, I have steak again, and it is OK. That the waitress got the order for all four of us right for the first time in six days was good, but as I said, just four choices, shouldn’t have been that difficult.

At nine I drove to the factory, met the manager, and once the client rep arrived, so began the long night shift, witnessing stuff, asking questions and trying to stay awake.

At half six, the others came to relieve us, and so myself and Svetlana could head back to the hotel for breakfast.dinner and then get some glorious sleep.

Wednesday.

Outside, the sun rose into a cold blue sky, and shone all days, right into my room. It certainly wasn’t dark, but I did get to sleep, and slept for some six hours before thoughts of work brought me round into the world of the living once again. At four, news came that there was to be no night shift, and the others were heading back to the hotel, so meet for coffee?

This really was good news, and the prospect was that there would be no more night shift, so I could relax, and think about switching back to normal sleep patterns.

For dinner we headed into town to the Italian place, and despite my previous comments about not wanting steak for every meal, I ordered steak in a cream and whisky sauce. It was glorious, so good that the only way to finish was with a Vin Santo again.

Back to the hotel room for some FA cup action, this time Bolton v Liverpool, for which I just about stayed up until the final whistle, so witnessed a Liverpool win.

Thursday.

Last day.

Another glorious dawn outside, so more frost scraping off the car, a short drive to the factory, and the day’s work of inspecting began. And went on. And on. In fact, it was mostly witnessing testing, which was staring at a computer read out for hours and hours. Not riveting, but required.

And at four, the day ended with the first nacelle for the project having been completed and passing all tests. Great news, and seeing the massive machine at the end of the line, makes the reality of the project all the more real. It really is in full swing, doubly as four more were on the line at the same time too.

The Italian was so good, we went back for a repeat, I have steak in a gorgonzola sauce, and it was another tasty triumph. So pleased was the owner to see us back, I get a free Vin Santo to round off the meal.

Drive back to the hotel, thank the customer for their good spirit over the week, and that was it, time to pack, try to sleep, and gan yem tomora.