For the second week running, a full weekend, all the way from Friday at five to Monday morning at eight. That this feels luxurious shows how busy I have been playboying myself around Europe, doing my stuff. Anyway. A weekend. At home.
And waking up with the light of dawn, with the sun rise a few minutes away, the blackbirds chirping away reminding me that they are darn hungry and how about some seeds? The cats were also complaining about how hungry there were too ,and what with the football on TV in a half hour, I had better get up and do the feeding, make some coffee.
There was no clouds in the sky, really I should have been out, walking the earth, but instead I am sitting watching football on TV, sipping coffee. The BBC said that the day would get windy and wet, so if we were going to get out, we had better get our boots on sharpish.
Although, just sitting here watching the world go by was also tempting.
In the end we got out of the house just gone ten, and already clouds were rolling in, and there was a breeze blowing too. After a week of unsettled weather, the ground underfoot was muddy, and so walking much beyond the pig’s copse was pretty much out of the question. Also out of the question as there was family to visit and the such. Due to my travel, I had not seen the inlaws for many weeks, and Nan not since Christmas.
As it turned out, I ducked out of visiting Nan, and went to the house of whispers instead. Tony was in good form, so we chatted and he smoked. He switched the TV on to watch the snooker, he carried on smoking. With the ban on indoor smoking now 8 years old, my thought is how on earth did we ever put up with it? I was chased into the living room where the snooker was also on the TV there, as Jen does not like the smoking either.
It is some years since I watched any snooker, and its fair to say that after half an hour, I was done with that. So it was good when Jools came back to pick me up and take us home. Duty done for another few weeks anyway.
Back home via Tesco, the first time I have been there in like months. Shudder. Anyway, with the addition of some cupcakes that wasn’t on the list, we headed home for coffee and for me to listen to the football on the radio from the sofa.
We snacked on scotch eggs for dinner, and some mini pizza things. Oh and red wine. That worked. Outside the rain began to fall, getting heavier and heavier. The cats sat on windowsills looking mournfully at the rain coming down. I found the KLFs first album on You Tube, so the evening passed with Bill Drummond’s rapping and stolen beats. Not a bad evening. But once again, the weekend had slipped by.
Tomorrow, off to Denmark.
Monday.
I am writing this at the Zleep Hotel in Billund on Thursday, and Monday seems like a lifetime ago. I can barely remember what the weather was like, where I got on the train. But, it is all coming back to me.
Jools thought she would let me sleep on after the alarm went off, or when she got up, with the result, I woke up at quarter past six, less than half an hour before we had to be out of the house. Cursing, I got dressed, went down stairs, had coffee went to clean my teeth. Luckily I had packed the night before, so all was ready to dash out the door. I just hoped I had everything, as I never take my passport out of my bag, I should at least travel and buy whatever I might have forgotten.
Jools dropped me off at Martin Mill, with just enough time to get my ticket, get out on the platform in time for the train. I bag a seat at a table, I decided being surrounded by bankers and the such reading the FT would have to do, it was the only seat from which I could keep an eye on my case in the luggage rack anyway.
Along to Guston, down through the tunnel ,and then winding our way through Charlton to Buckland Junction and onto Dover where dozens of people were waiting. The same at Folkestone Central, and by the time we left Folkestone West it was pretty much standing room only. As I have said so many times before, this is now so routine, I hardly think of it as anything abnormal, commuting to Denmark, but then since the trains changed, it meant I had to either catch a much earlier train or a slightly later one if I wanted to leave from Martin Mill. In my heart I knew there was time, but with each red signal or slow part of the journey, I imagined being late for the flight.
After a very slow trip through the tunnel under east London, I got off, waited for the crush to die down on the concourse above. It is just a 15 minute trip to the airport, and once there I was told due to a snow storm in Denmark, the plane inbound was delayed by two hours, please wait in the lounge. So, instead of having just an hour to wait before departure, I had nearly three. So, breakfast it was then.
Sitting at a table were three of the newer monkeys from Thanet. So, I sat down and chatted, they were off for some training. What is it you do, they asked. I often ask myself much the same I answered, the standard answer. But they seem decent blokes, all away from their families for ten days of travelling, hotel living and boozing.
The flight was called at half ten, but we did not move off until quarter past eleven, and with a strong tail wind the flight should take just under an hour and a half. I had the cold meal, for a change. I knew there would be no food by the time I got into the office. Denmark was warming up, only the highest ground, I say highest, but you know, still was white with snow, but that was melting fast too.
I got the hire car, set off on the familiar road to Esbjerg, no snow there, being near the sea, and hardly no people either. I did manage to get my computer fixed, so at least I could get some project work done now.
At four, I went to the hotel to check in, go to my room, unpack and switch the computer on to write some mails. At seven I went out to the Dronning Louise for dinner, but they have had a revamp and are doing blander beers and ales now. But the food is OK, and there is room and warm, so I have lamb burger and two local ales, before I realise I am tired, so I walk back along the deserted main street back to the hotel, above the crescent moon shone brightly, and it was bitterly cold.
Tuesday.
Up at six as I have a 90 minute drive to Lem for the day’s work. I have a shower, dress, go down for breakfast. It is just getting light, and was at least not raining, a good morning for a drive. I usually like to listen to the radio or think about what to do next weekend, but these days my head is full of work-related problems: does this mean I am growing up? I hope not.
Work goes well, the day passes quickly, and at half four, all is done and as the sun sinks in the east, I drive back along side the fjord and down to Esbjeg, arriving back at dusk. What is Denmark like? Like a slightly hillier Norfolk I once said: a mix of farmland, bogs, forests and small towns. Its not unpretty for sure. Does that even make sense? The fjord is really a salty lagood, behind the dunes on the west coast.
I head back to Dronning Louise for dinner, past the familiar shops with their oddly Scandic fashions, manequins on odd poses, especially the one in the lingerie shop which always makes me think it’s the polishing the floor pose, just what you would do in pants and bra. Or not. My friend can’t meet up, so I have a couple of beers, a plate of nachos, and I think rather than go to the sports bar, I will watch the Citeh v Barca game from my bed. Which means I can keep an eye on the City game, who come from behind to win at Ewood Park, 5 in a row now. I go to bed happy.
Wednesday.
Last full day in Denmark, and a day in the office, catching up on all those oh so dull but oh so Important tasks that the project requires. To celebrate I go back to sleep and wake again at seven fifteen. I pack, go down, pay my bill, have breakfast and am in the office by eight twenty, raring to go.
Bit by bit I go through my list of tasks, and by early afternoon I just had the test plan to update, but feeling enthused I even managed that, finishing at four. Congratulating myself, I thought I would take myself to Billund, hand the car in, check in the hotel room and treat myself to burger and a beer at the terminal.
Which is what I did. Hmmmm, dirty food, whilst ready Mojo, a music magazine, reading about music.
And now, here I am. In my room, more mails written, 12 hours before my flight home. If there is no snow. Of course
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