One thing I forget to mention was that when checking the news online in the morning, I saw that Lufthansa pilots were going on strike on Wednesday. Now, as my flight home was a Lufthansa one, I was concerned. I contacted our travel coordinator, but until the flight was cancelled, noting could be done about getting me on another flight. Mid-way through the afternoon, Lufthansa texted me to say that my flight had been cancelled, and click on the link to make alternative arrangements. I clicked on the link and got a message saying my flight did not exist. Not a lot of help.
So, I contacted the coordinator again, she had not left for the day, and managed to get me on another flight, but even better was that is was a direct flight, although it left Dresden earlier, I would be in London early! A win/win thing then.
So, panic over.
I went out for a walk that night, as the twittervese was alive with the news there was a major electromagnetic storm, so the Northern Lights might be seen. I went out, but I could see nothing, and the lights from the nearby BASF factory were bleaching out the stars that were out anyway. I took my camera and got a few shots.
And as for the football: well, City had an early goal chalked off, then we fell a goal behind. We equalised in the 2nd half, then as the game went into injury time, we conceded again. I switched the computer off in a right hump, moaning all the time as I cleaned my teeth. So, imagine my surprise when I checked online the next morning, we had scored an even later goal to escape with a point. Oh well.
Wednesday
And I am awake at six as the morning creeps round the side of the curtains; trucks are rumbling on the road outside, so, I think I should have an early breakfast, then have a shower, pack and all the other stuff. I go down and see plenty of people munching away. I find a table, a pot of coffee is brought over. Fruit and a roll filled with Nutella will do for me. I go online back in my room to check mails, there is nothing much to do, so I thought I may as well head to the airport and write a report from the previous day's work.
Outside it was already 15 degrees and getting warmer. Sun shone through a haze, driving was wonderful in the sunlight and being so warm. Although the traffic hammering down the motorway at speeds approaching 130mph has still scary. Not being in a rush, I take my time, only venturing into the outside lane when I overtake trucks so the sport billys can zip by.
The drive is through thick forests, and across lush countryside. It is very nice, although in places traces of the old East can still be seen, but for the most part it looks just like any other part of Germany.
It is just half an hour to the airport: I drop the car off, it is checked, I sign and that is it. In the terminal, there is almost no one about. I mean it never is busy, but there is just three flights until late afternoon, and I have pretty much the whole concourse to myself. Just two Lufthansa flights are going, and the Cityjet desk is unmanned as yet. I sit down to read more of Dear Leader. Two hours before the flight, the desk opens, I check in and take myself through security. There is just as few people there as well. A couple of the shops were open, in a brave show of optimism. I write my report, read some more and people watch. About 40 of us had gathered for the flight, which meant it was about half full.
It is delayed an hour, so we board at just before two and are soon lifting off into the blue skies. Soon a haze covers the land below us, and that is how it stays for most of the flight, getting thicker as we near London. The Essex coast is glimpsed below, but cloud is still thick, until we drop through it as we are turning near Battersea ready for the bombing run down the Thames on final approach. Familiar buildings and sights are seen, I take no shots as I have so many already.
And we are down. I see I have 50 minutes to get to Stratford for the quarter to four train, so I'm in no hurry. I let the other passengers off first. Through immigration, I grab my case, make my way to the station for the train to Stratford. It is busy, but not rush hour busy, so I look out the window at the haze that is muting all colours, and almost hiding Canada Square, which is not a bad thing. I have time for a coffee and a bun at Stratford, with ten minutes to spare I make my way to the platform, just as a Eurostar thunders through. It really was going some, and then all is quiet again.
There are seats on the train, but the greedy stupid people have spread their stuff out, trying to keep their double seats to themselves. Bugger then! I stand and smile as we had out through Essex, under the rush hour traffic at Dartford, under the river and into Kent.
At Ashford, once some of the greedy stupid people had gotten off, I had a seat, so I relaxed, closed my eyes for the final part of the journey.
Dover was dull, misty and chilly, just seven degrees, feeling like winter again after how it was in Dresden that morning. I flagged down a taxi to take me home, getting inside at just gone five. Time then to feed the cats, make a cuppa for when Jools came home half an hour later.
It feels like another week done, although it is just Wednesday evening.
That night, Citeh become the 4th and final English club to be eliminated from the Champion's League: how does that sit with the self-proclaimed best league in the world? Not very well I think. Oh well, there's always next year. And the year after.
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