Wednesday 13th May 2015

I am writing this in a small hotel room in Billund, some 100 metres from the airport pan, and about 1km from Legoland. Outside it is very dull, overcast and pissing down. This is autumn. As yesterday was glorious, wall to wall sunshine, so must have been summer.

Normal service has been resumed.

However, I am home on Wednesday, and there will be Jools. And cats.

Sunday.

You know, some of Sunday was less than 48 hours ago, and yet I cannot really remember stuff we did. Let me think really hard. But not hard enough to get a headache.

Oh yes. It will not come as a surprise to learn that Sunday began with a hungry cat, getting up before six, having a coffee and watching football. As I watched the footy, my eye was drawn to some movement outside. And there was a fox, in broad daylight, wandering up to the bird food and munching on peanuts. He dashed through hedge, but re-appeared a few seconds later, standing on its hind legs, getting more peanuts off the top of the wall. I could only see its head and front paws, as it scooted the peanuts into munching range.

Then he was gone. The football played on.

After checked in online for the flight to Denmark the next day, we went to visit Nan. Or rather Jools did, and I went to visit my mate, Gary for a chat about photography and wildlife. As we talked, various birds including a Greater Spotted Woodpecker, a Yellow Wagtail and various crows, starlings came to feed outside.

I went back to pick up Jools and to see Nan. Now 100 and ¾, she is in fine form, no longer seeing strangers on a bus, at least not on Sunday, is sharp as a tack, but bored. What can we do? Not much, just go and visit, talk about life and tell her how well things are going, despite be being involved. We wish we could look after her, but she required 24/7 care, and we cannot provide that. One of the children she was a nanny for in the 1930s came to visit, he is 85, founded the Royal Photographic Society (or something) and arranged Churchill’s funeral, well he came to visit this week, and found Nan also in fine form.

We then went to the outlaws, to see Dad, Jen and the chickens.

All is well there, computer problem sorted, and I listened to Dad’s repetitive tales from the coastal steamers, after he got out of borstal. All true. He’s a bit like my Granddad, repeating his best memories over and over again. Maybe it comes to us all?

Back home for lunch, more stinky French cheese, red wine and then a snooze. Of course.

The football blared on the radio. On occasion, I even listened to it. After a fine dinner or chorizo hash, we’re still not bored with it, we watched two more episodes of Boradchurch and then I packed ready for the early start on Monday.

Monday.

And here we go, another early start.

It is spring, the sun is shining. We get up, I have coffee, check my stuff and I am ready. Waiting on the platform at Martin Mill at five to seven, with ten minutes to spare.

The train is never full here, so I get a seat and wait as we drop down into Dover to collect more passengers, then both Folkestone stations to fill the train right up. It is a thankless experience, but the four on the table in front of me are all friends, and seem to meet up every morning for a catch up and chin wag. Harmless stuff, mostly about a new Turkish takeaway in the town. Mmmmm, kebab.

So, into London, with the countryside, motorway and all the trash in Essex speeding by. Dash across London, check in my case, through security. Now what to have for breakfast? Porridge apparently. £10.40 for a small bowl and a coffee. But the company was paying, but hey, a tad expensive don’t you think so?

The flight is called, so I make my way to the gate. I meet my colleague Gary (no, another one) so we chat before we board. Once again I leave my camera in the hold, so no pictures, but the usual views as we bank north over the City and along The Thames, then over Essex. As usual, I could trains as we fly. Sad, I know. But it passes the time, and I get to 26 before we climb above the clouds.

I have breakfast (another one), more coffee. All is good.

Europe scrolls below us, passing over sea, northern Holland, more sea and then there is Denmark, and its sunny!

Yes, we land, the sun is shining and it is even warm.

I pick up my car for the week: a huge Citroen C4, big enough for seven people, shame its just me and my two small cases. And off I go, heading north to Arhus.

I am in a good mood, oddly. The reason I will reveal in due course.

At the office most people are away or about to finish for the day. I meet some people, write some mails, then head for the hotel to relax before meeting my mate Shaggy for beer n food. I have brought him some Tetley tea bags as well as two jars of Bovril, him being a proper Midland boy and all. So, at quarter to six he lets me know he has arrived, so I go down laden with the goods, and we then drive into town to look for a place to eat and then drink.



Sadly, the burger place was full, so we walk down the street to a Chinese place we went to last year: I have the crispy duck I had last time, and it was just as good. We then retire to the Peter Give for a beer, and even sit in the beer garden to sup our ales, despite the lengthening shadows making it cool.

At nine we call it a night, and he drops me back at the hotel where there is time for a shower before bed takes me from this world