I should be more excited about travelling to the Danish capital for the first time, but I am not. The reason for this is that I am flying in for a meeting, and flying out again. Or something close to that anyway. As the meeting is due to start at nine on Friday, I have to arrive the night before, and oddly enough, I can fly direct to Billund from London City, but not to wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen. Instead I have to fly from Gatwick, or worse, Stanstead. Shudder.
What this means is that rather than a 6 hour jump, I will be giving most of the day to travelling, which, although isn't like stuffing giblets kind of bad, it does mean sitting on trains, in departure halls, on aircraft, in hire cars. I know, I moan, moan, moan. I moan when I travel, moan when I don't. So shoot me.
My flight is at half three, which calculating back on the travel times means I need to catch the eleven o'clock train from Dover. I thus need a quarter past ten taxi from home.
Jools leaves for work, it is a glorious morning out there, clear blue skies, not a breath of wind. I can hear the orchids calling me, instead I pack and send off some last minute mails to work colleagues. At ten past then the taxi arrives, I am ready. I do laugh as I check my work phone for mails as I walk out the house to see a coordination meeting for my activities on Friday has been called for, just a few days too late, guys. I swear to the taxi driver about it, he laughs along. Even more so when my ex-boss calls me to ask where in the world I am and am I going to join the meeting.
No chance.
Whilst sitting on the platform, I get another call, and through the broken speech, I get the impression not to worry, read this and that document and we will meet at the hotel that night. Sounds good. Too good perhaps.....For a change, I am on the slow train, there are many ways to get to the airport, and all take about the same amount of time, but the most pleasant is the route through Tonbridge and Redhill: which will mean quiet trains and fine views over verdant countryside.
The train pulls in, and i have the carriage to myself, until just before departure, a couple of drunken bums-cum-drug dealers get on, already drinking cans of Special Brew, and effing and blinding, making jokes of their partners, and making plans for the place where they are going, a pub, and deals to be done. Although I don't want to be a drung dealer, the thought of spending the afternoon, or in this case the late morning and then afternoon in a beer garden sounds very nice, instead here I am, travelling.
They get off at Folkestone, and yet more drunken bums get one, but at least they are quieter, more content to sup their tinnies. By the time we leave Ashford, the train is quite empty again, but heading closer to London we start to collect more passengers again. And so by the time we are coasting towards Tonbridge, it is standing room only. But this is where I am to get off, and with just a walk to the other side of the platform for the connecting train, and on which the air con is pumped up, it is yet more easy travel.
The line to Redhill is through wonderful countryside, through a green and pleasant river valley, woodland and leafy suburbs. It seems like a backwater, and yet the M25 is just a few miles away. It was much busier at Redhill, with most people waiting for the connecting train to Gatwick, that connection turned out to be an express to Southampton, which was busy, but as it was for one stop, I did not mind standing.
At the airport with two hours to go before the flight, I dreaded the long hike to the check in desk, the wait there, the wait at security, finding the gate, etc, etc, moan. Walking out of the station, I follow the signs to the south terminal, and within 5 yards of the exit there are the Nowegian Air self check in desks. I punch in my booking reference, I get my boarding card, baggage tag. I go tot he automated bag drop of, scan my tag, the bag goes. Done. Two minutes and counting.
Security is well organised, I am directed to a short queue, three minutes later I am through.
The biggest drag is having to walk through the massive duty free shop to find a place to eat, that must take at least a minute. There are many choices, but I plumb for Nando's, get a table and order a salad with a beer. It is summer after all. Apparently.
That done, I still have an hour to kill. I find a place to sit and people watch.
The airline sends me a text with my gate, so I wander over for the scramble when the gate opens. despite us all having booked seats, people now travel with no check in bags, instead like to have it in the cabin, which means the overhead lockers get full quickly. That some people have three bags, I am not sure why the airlines allow it, as always the flight is delayed as latecomers have to try to find a place to stow their bags. The woman next to me had a bag the same size as my RAF kitbag, and took up half the bin which is meant for six people.
In the end, all bags are stowed, and we can close the doors and make ready to leave. I have an aisle seat, as there was no option to change that online, but is is fine, I have more legroom than on the KLM flights I have to Holland most weeks. But being a budget carrier, there is nothing free, but they accept all currencies for the drinks and snacks. I should have tried to use my Alterian Dollars, like the seasoned traveler I am.
We land safely, and if anything it is even hotter in Denmark than in London. It must be one of their two days of summer! It is easy to get through immigration, the police just wave me through after glancing at my passport. My bag arrives, and once through the car hire place is well signposted. I get a Polo, the garage is another short walk away, I find the car, load up, program the address of the hotel in the sat nav. And I am off.
Now, I know you are wondering, what Copenhagen is like. I know I was, I have seen friends pictures of the centre, and it looks very much like Bergen. However, I am on business, and I have a hotel near our customer's offices. All I see is motorways, junctions, more motorways until I am told to turn off, down a busy road to the district where I am to stay. The hotel is easy to find, and it has a large car park, which is always nice.
MY reservation is good, so I dump my bags and go back down to get somethign to eat. It is already eight in the evening, and I have a meeting and then documents to read. My old boss called: he could not get a reservation in the hotel, he is somewhere across the city. Don't worry. Read this, this and tat documents, and see you at nine for the meeting. Is that all?
I have lamb stak and vegetables, and two small bottles of beer which are of a strength the business traveler might think not a good idea if an evening of work beckons. The food is good, as so is the beer. Back in my room, I start to review the documents, but by half ten I am falling asleep. What is the point, I had better wing it in the morning, I was told not to worry!
So I don't. It is still light outside, the air in my room is hot and heavy. I fall quickly into a deep sleep.
Now, you will notice there are no photos for this post: there are two reasons for this. One, I was on a business trip and did not really have any free time. And 2, I seem to have left my camera in the hotel in Copenhagen.
Bugger.
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