And here we go again.
Another Monday, a commute to Denmark, so getting up at half five, running around having breakfast, getting dressed, packing and out of the door by six forty, drive down the hill to Martin Mill, buy my ticket, and then wait for the train.
Friday had not been a good day, I finished work at twelve out of desperation and for my sanity, I needed some time with my thoughts. Anyway, by the time Monday came round, I was dreading the in box and the avalanche of mails it would contain. I switched the phone on, and because the station is in a valley, no signal. That came when we arrived in Dover, then they came, just a snowfall rather than an avalanche. I flicked through them, looking at urgent ones. Not as bad as I thought.
At Dover the train half-filled, and at Folkestone it filled up fully. The guy next to me smelt of mould and sweaty armpits. On a Monday. I tried to sleep, but I was too interested looking out the window. It was a glorious morning, and I was looking forward to the sights out of the plane window as we turned to the north. Getting my cases out of the crowded train was difficult, but I got out of the doors just as they closed, and so waited until the platform emptied, and I had the escalator to myself.
A DLR train had just arrived, so I settled in a seat, answered a couple of mails before it moved off and we disappeared under the Westfield Centre. The train filled up, now that I am 20 minutes later, there are many schoolchildren and their parents getting on, heading to schools on a train. And I thought I was cool riding my racing bike!
I have just an hour at the airport to check in, get through security and find the gate. No time for breakfast, just grab some crème eggs for my colleague Charlotte and off we go to the gate, down the steps onto the bus, down to the pan and then we find the plane has not been refueled so we wait. And wait. And wait.
Then two bausers turn up at once, we get fueled, we board, and the engines start and we can leave. Up into the clear blue sky, climbing over the Dome, baking gently to the north, offering fine views over Central London before we turn more and I see the suburbs spreading out, over Stratford, across the M25 at Brentwood, along the A12 to Chelmsford, Colchester before be turn for the coast and clouds obscure the view.
I had the cold breakfast, a roll, some ham and cheese and crackers. Not bad.
And there below us through the thick cloud was Denmark, all damp and soggy. As we get closer I see the fields so full of rainwater in places they look like paddys. It is raining hard as the turn onto final approach. Oh well.
Once down, I get given an Opel Mokka, or something, not bad, but it also has a heated steering wheel. It’s a poor company that triumphs this as a reason for buying the car. I’d settle for gloves.
For a change I am heading to Arhus, to head office as I have meetings on Tuesday, so along the meandering road to the motorway, then a 45km blast upto the junction, and along into the city, turning off at the row of large box buildings, one of which is our head office. It is three months since I was here, and it is good to meet friends and colleagues. In the end after catching up with people, chatting and exchanging news, it is time to leave again. So I go back to the car.
This time, my hotel is different, down in the harbor area, so I program the sat nav, and set off on the main road towards the centre and then the harbor, along the railway to the large tower block which was my home for the next three nights. After checking in, I make my way to the 7th floor, and into my room with panoramic views of the city, glistening in the late afternoon sunshine.
That evening I go for a walk, looking for somewhere other than the hotel to eat. I walk through what I learn later was the old railway works, past a huge gym, and along a street with a couple of places to eat and drink. I don’t like going to bars on my own, and the one place I am sure is a restaurant is Michelin starred, and out of the price range of my company credit card.
It is now cold, so I walk back to the hotel, order burger and a beer, and settle down in the lush surroundings of the hotel restaurant, sipping excellent local beer. And the burger was great too.
Time for bed, I leave the curtains open at the foot of my bed, so I can see the sparkling lights of the city as I snoozed off.
Tuesday
I have been doing this job, or the QA Manager part at least for some 15 months now, and the travelling every week thing since mid-October. It is now normal. If I don’t travel for a couple of days, say flying out on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, it don’t seem right. So, how is it going to feel next week when I am going to home for something like TEN straight days.
How’d you like them apples.
Very much so, I feel.
At times it has felt like I was travelling down a long dark tunnel, never ending, and the light at the end, an oncoming train. But I have made it through, whilst maybe not to Elysian Fields, but maybe Elysian Close or Gardens. There maybe be trouble ahead, but while there are e tickets and hire cars, I’ll face the audit and wibble. Or something. I am happy enough, and weeks in the office in Ramsgate would now bore me silly. Oh, what am I going to do when the whole game is over.
Anyway, I am at the old Zleep at the airport tonight (Thursday) and back home in the morning. So, happy days.
I woke up on Tuesday with the city waking up through the window whuch I could see between by feet. I lay there awhile before leaping up, feel for aches and pains, then have a shower.
I go down and find the breakfast filled with nearly a dozen people I know: all employees of the same company. So I have a bite to eat with them, swap news, before we all get in our separate cars to drive to the same place for work. I know, I know.
And to the day proper: meetings and reunions.
As before, I won’t dwell on work, maybe one day I will fill in the gaps, but for now rest assured I gave the day and the customer my full attention.
Once work was done, I have to dash as I am to meet me old mucker Shaggy Shags for a bite to eat and a catch up. And a beer. And for me to pass over the two jars of Marmite, which is illeagal in Denmark, so, I am now a Marmite smuggler.
We walk back to where I had gone the previous night, we go into a bar and order Irish beer, oh the same. Anyway, that was good, as was the American style diner we went to next. We both order Mississippi style burger, which was huge but did not have four eyes, ahem. And that was that, we walk back to the hotel, have a coffee, and he has to leave to go back to his family, armed with Marmite.
I go back to my room to follow the football via Twitter. I fall asleep soon enough, wake up to turn the lights and computer off.
Wednesday
Same again, with fewer meetings. In fact, all meetings got cancelled because of illness, not on my part, I am as fit as a lion. A fairly sick lion I grant you. Anyway. Same as yesterday, shower, breakfast, drive to work, and settle down for a day at the grindstone trying to catch up. I may not be 100% up to date, but I did a good deal, and at five, satisfied, I drive back to the hotel, down the broad road to the city centre, now being ripped up to lay a new tram line, which from what I gather has been taking like forever.
I decide to eat in the hotel, and downstairs I meet my old boss, Philip, so join him, order shin of lamb, which when it came was wonderful. I am pretty happy, so we both order cheese and a glass of house red to round the meal off.
Back in room, I follow Norwich and their next game against Wigan, but, it was awful, and we slumped to a 1-0 defeat, now have to bounce back quick at the weekend.
Once again, shattered, I head to bead with the room lit by the lights of the city below.
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