After the glorious sunshine and warmth of Monday here in Denmark, what would Tuesday bring?
The answer was rain. And lots of it.
And due to the fact that Thursday was another Danish Bank Holiday, there were no flights that day, and Wednesday's evening flight was full, which meant, by a process of elimination, that I would have to fly out Wednesday morning, therefore needing a stay at the old Zleep at the airport, and therefore check out of the compound, sorry, Scandic West that morning. I could lie and say I packed, but the truth being in the room for a little over eight hours, I have not unpacked. So, I showered, dressed for success and went down to check out and have breakfast.
A quick drive to the office, write some mails, then wait for the customer arrive for what may well be one of the final interface meetings. Its no lie to say things have gone well. Very well in fact, and I already have the nod as to what my next project will be. So the next two years or so is sorted. Anyway, we have the meeting, and all is very well natured, and very happy. We are halfway through the installation phase, with the commissioning to go but all will be done in due course. All rather all good news to be honest. And I can claim I had a small part in that.
We have lunch, chat some more during and after, and they leave at two. The first meeting on the next project begins after that.
So it goes, so it goes.
That also done, I write more mails to be up to date, then pack up and prepare the drive to Billund and the hotel, beside the airport.
This did mean hitting the motorway in the rush hour, which is never going to be fun, but then I have an eight-seater Citroen C4 things, in which to relax in and spread out all my stuff inside. Which is always the way, having a huge car when I am on my own, and something tiny like a Fiat 500 when in Germany back in the winter. But, with rain falling gently, but then I have all evening to get to the hotel, check in and drop the car off, I take my time and so arrive after half six, but safe.
I check in, drop by bags, drive to the other side of the terminal to drop the car, then into the terminal itself to complete the paperwork and have dinner. There is little choice for food at the airport: just the cafe thing in the arrivals hall, and with the limited choice, I always have a burger and a large beer. Which I order again. It comes with garlic mayo and fries. Its OK, not the best burger in the world, but tastes good after nothing since breakfast.
That done, I walk back to the hotel to get more work done, and find something to while away the evening, which ended up ignoring the Champion's League game on TV, I put it on, but it really is not that diverting, even is Bayern ran out 3-2 winners against Barca, who go through to the final. One big club knocks another one out: shock. Or not.
At eleven, shattered, I go to bed, hopeful that the last flight had arrived so the jet engines don't keep me awake. Jools had asked earlier, if there were any quiet rooms at the hotel. There are no quiet rooms at the hotel due to the fact it is 50m from the airport.
Wednesday.
To my surprise, I slept like a log, and thankfully I had set my alarm so I was awake at just before six. Already outside, planes were arriving and other starting their engines. Welcome to Billund.
I pack, check out and have breakfast, and then walk the 400m to the terminal, get my boarding pass, check in my case and go through security. I have an hour and a half, so I relax, turn the computer on and answer some mails.
At eight, the flight is called and all passengers make our way to the gate. Nothing to think that anything could be wrong as we baord the plane, wait for late arrivals and then the door is closed and the engines start, right on time. We taxi to the end of the runway, the engines rev and roar, we lurch forward, but all is not well. As we trundle down the runway, the engines rev up, put then power is cut.
We taxi back to the terminal, it is mentioned that a screen is needed to be changed, will be half an hour. We wait, and a new aircraft is brought over. It is identical inside, but has it engines rather than a turbo prop. We climb on board, back in our original seat allocations. What I can tell you is the 328-300 is quieter and has less vibration that its turboprop cousin. Anyway, we start up, safety briefing given. We taxi to the runway, and off we go, climbing into the clouds over Legoland, leaving Denmark behind.
The pilot makes an announcement: for reasons not made clear, the plane cannot land at London City, but can and will land at the nearby Southampton airport. SOUTHAMPTON!? It's nowhere near! I think and rationalise he must have meant Southend. I hope as Southampton will involve at least a two hour bus trip back up to London, the cross London, a train back home: I would do well to be home before four.
As it was, I was right, Southend was our destination, so we fly over northern Holland, along the coast and over the sea, and over my wind farm project, Luchterduinen. 24 out of the 43 turbines have been installed, and it is looking like a working windfarm, even with just two turbines turning.
We get lower and lower, until as we cross the coast we are only a couple of thousand feet above the land. We touch down and taxi to the terminal, a member of staff is waiting, takes us through the baggage reclaim, out into the car park and to the bus that would take us to London City. I bagsie a seat at the front, and am happy sitting behind the driver. We make our way out of Southend and onto the A13. It is a glorious sunny day, warm, abd with white fluffy clouds from horizon to horizon.
Through Essex, to Greys, Thurrock, over the M25 and into east London. At least traffic was light, and we arrive at the airport after about an hour on the bus.
I get by cases from the coach, run to the DLR station as a train to Stratford was due. If I was lucky, I might just get the quarter to one train. I had 25 minutes.
As always when you are in a hurry, the train seemed to daudle, meaning I arrived with just 5 minutes in which to get up from the station, over the road, and back down more escalators to the Southeastern platforms. Just my luck that the previous train had broken down, so mine was running 6 minutes late.
But what it also meant was that everyone from the broken down train, would have to pile on the next one. That we do, just, and I get a seat. On the wrong side of the train, but that'll do.
Once in Dover, I have to get some money out before I can flag the final taxi in the rank to take me home. I get back just before two, with half an hour before a meeting over to communicator. I manage to make a brew and a sarnie, before switching on the laptop for the meeting, which then over ran by half an hour as we argued over the definition of words. All so painful.
At four I had had enough. I had been up since before five, UK time, and I needed some exercise, but with heavy rain forecast for all day Thursday, therefore, I would push the lawnmower round the garden. It was a wonderfully warm and golden afternoon. I had an audience of cats, waiting for their dinner.
It is warm enough to sit in the garden for a while, so I read When Saturday Comes soaking up the late afternoon rays. Life really does not get any better than that.
Yes it does, when Jools comes home, we have Scotch Eggs with some home-made pasta salad and some wine. That is much, much better.
It is half six, we sit down to watch the final two episodes of Broadchurch, and we both guessed who done the deed. But by then, it was half nine, time for a shower and bed. Where did the day go?
No comments:
Post a Comment