And like magic, when I opened the curtains, the clouds had gone, and the sun was shining brightly from an almost clear blue sky. That raised a smile on my face.
I shower, pack then go down to check out, load the car and then go back inside for breakfast. The hotel is busy, and I find the last free table. Looking around there is the usual mix of holidaymakers and working types. The non-workers seemed to be all wearing flip flops, and why not? Playing over the loudspeakers is the same CD as last time I stayed here. I left before Joni Mitchel started singing again.
This was to be a grand day, a grand day in that I had arranged all the technicians on site in Esbjerg to have cake, and I would make a speech. In front of 80 people. From someone who used to clam up in front of two teachers during an English oral exam. A big test for me.
And I thought that would be the highlight of a quiet day. Shame then that the project I have been asked to assist on is ramping up quick, and it seems that my presence will be required for three meetings before our holiday. So yet more travelling, and those long dreamed of two weeks at home now seem as far away as they did in the dark days of February. I have an endless stream of mails to deal with, and yet more contract obligations to get straight in my head.
It seems the day and my work life is careering out of control. Again.
One o'clock comes round, and the two large cakes arrive: I help move them to the office, and then to the meeting room. At two the technicians, supervisors and managers file in, wanting me to say as little as possible so they can eat cake. So, I cough, say thanks for all the work they did, how quick they did it, and to the highest quality. And now, please eat! The sound of eighty chairs being scraped on the floor as they made to queue up, and the two site assistants cut the cakes and dished out generous portions to all. Including me.
With all work having been done on our project, the guys began to leave, so, with my work up to date, well, as much as I could do, I left too. Driving through the late afternoon sunshine in my sporty Audi. VROOM. I have all the windows down, and cruise along, it is good to be alive. And I am going home in the morning.
I drop the car off, check into the hotel, then go for burger and fries in the terminal. As usual. Despite not having much to eat through the day, the meal filled me up, and I cannot finish my beer. Bad boy.
I spend the evening answering more mails, listening to the radio and watching a re-run of the 2005 Champions League Final, where Liverpool came from 3-0 down at half time to draw level then win on penalties. I have not seen any of it since the night of the game, and in truth, Liverpool were not very good in the first half, and deserved to be at least 3 down, and should have conceded a 4th, but the move broke down. They came back well, but the Milan keeper had a bit of a mare. But hey, they won. Although I did not sit up to watch the extra time and penalties, bed was calling.
Thursday.
I am woken by the alarm at a quarter to six. The sun is already up and shining brightly the other side of the curtains. I open them and am nearly blinded by the bright sunshine. On the right below, people are already filing up steps onto planes for the first flights of the day. I have two and a half hours to fill before my flight.
I do the usual stuff, then drop the key off and go to the cafe for breakfast. It is more like a canteen, but cereal and two coffees is great and makes me up. The walk over to the terminal is only 5 minutes, but the airport have decided to let the grassed areas grow, and it looks like wild seeds were scattered, as among the long grass were a wide array of flowers, all looking stunning in the early morning sunshine. I stop to take a couple of shots, it was so good.
I check in my case, go through security, and take an empty table under the business lounge so I can use their internet connection; my laptop has remembered the password. More mails to answer, more work to do. And I seem to be up to date again. Danes are off to the sun, men in flip flops and shorts are drinking huge glasses of beer at half seven in the morning. Well, they are on holiday but it would still be too early for me.
At eight I walk to the gate, and once the previous flight had left, we were allowed on our plane. Once again it was full, but I have a single seat on the left hand side, so I get to see the usual landmarks pass below us. Out over the islands off the Danish coast, crossing over north Holland, then down the coast before striking out over the sea, and over the windfarm. I snap it and see that the 39th turbine is just being completed, which means four to do and that phase will also be completed.
Across the Essex coast, over Southend, Gravesend and round the southern suburbs of London to Crystal Palace, a sharp turn to starboard, and again over Battersea, along the river, over Buckingham Palace, Blackfriars, The Barbican and The City, one after the other. I take shots, not sure if any will come out.
Down we go, looking at my watch I see I have an hour to get to Stratford to get my flight, plenty of time to get through immigration, get my case, catch the train and have a coffee. Which is what I do, and by ten fifteen I am sitting above the station, sipping a gingerbread latte and munching on a hot sausage roll. Perfect.
Waiting on the platform, I hear the roar of an approaching Eurostar, and it thunders through at something like 150 mph. It is an impressive sight for sure. Our train rolls in, it is half full, but I get a seat with no problem, and settle back as we head under London, then out into Essex, under the river and into Kent. Nearly home.
Here is a taxi waiting, but the driver can barely speak English. No, that is hard, but he does not know the area well, and I argue with him to the quickest way to St Margaret's. He goes along London Road, then along Cherrytree before doubling back and going up Connaught Hill. This took ten minutes which could have been saved by going straight up Castle Hill. Once home he agrees to knock a couple of quid off, which is just as well and a tenner was all I was going to give him.
The sun is out, it is warm. And I am home.
I open the back door, whistle and no cat comes running. At all. So I take my cases inside, put on the kettle and brew up.
About half an hour later, Molly comes in. Meow? I guess she wants food. Although she gets a hug too, she is still purring as I hold her.
Back to work, answer more mails that have come in and do some admin that has been piling up for over a week.
That done, it is nearly four, I have been on the go since 5 UK time, so I call it a day, grab my camera, walking boots and go for a stroll, hoping to find some butterflies in the glade.
The countryside is a lush shade of green. A healthy shade of green, a green that screams fresh growth and a bumper harvest to come. Where a few weeks ago, the path over the fields was a line of green through bare earth, now it is overshadowed by the beans growing on either side. Looking back, there is green in the heat haze stretching back to the radar towers at Swingate.
I am sure there should be butterflies, I walk up and down but see none. And then I see a pair of small brown: but they are really blues, Brown Argus, and they are joined in their dance by a Common Blue. I spend 15 minutes chasing them, waiting for them to settle. I get the Brown Argus, then as I am leaving, the Common Blue basks in the afternoon sun and I get him. Happy with the result, I walk back.
No cooking for me that night: Jools was bringing back fish and chips, and all I had to do was make the tea and butter some bread.
She arrives home at six, with the smell of the fried food following her. It is wonderful, and straight from the newspaper. Lovely.
We catch up on news, have a shower, have a coffee. The evening slips away. We sit on the patio as dusk falls, waiting for the bats to come out and catch the moths and bugs about. They arrive and wheel and tumble chasing after the insects. Stars come out one by one and darkness falls.
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