Saturday 13th June 2015

Friday.

After what seemed a very short night's sleep indeed, I was awoken by the bright sunlight at five in the morning, which in English o'clock was four. Damn you Scandinavia! I laid in bed until my alarm went off, maybe I should ignore it, but then I have to have a shower, read the documents for the meeting, and so on.

I check the world news, more FIFA scandals, but then there is something new everyday. After showering, dressing to impressing, I pack and go down to check out have breakfast. The restaurant is full of Japanese tourists, I can't be sure but I am sure I saw them at the airport later in the day, all of them laden down with many bags of last minute shopping.

I program the address of the where the meeting was to be, should take ten minutes, or so said the sat nav, maybe mocking me. It does come up with possible routes very rapidly, and soon I am confused. But I make it to the offices with half an hour to spare. I wait in the car park, sure that a number of CCTVs were focused on me as I sat and sweated. Sweated, because it was another wonderful day of sunshine and high temperatures. And I was done up in shirt and tie.

My old boss arrives, and we go into the building, all brushed steel and glass. It seems to have a stream running through it, along with fountains and waterfalls. We book in and wait. In time we are taken my stairs and walkways to some meeting room on the far side of the building. It faced the sun, and was quickly becoming an oven. Our host battled the control box on the wall, but it seemed to make fans work with little effect on the temperature.

At nine we got down to business. I won't dwell on details here, but I did OK, I heard myself say some fairly intelligent things from time to time, and my mind did not wander. Until I told myself how well I was doing. We break for lunch, then wrap up at two.

We all shake hands, and some other people who were attending another meeting, but works for the same company, need a lift to the airport. And so that meant that any plan I had to drive into the centre of Copenhagen was scuppered. As I try to drive to the airport, I am quizzed about a few things, but I explain where I was coming from, and it is accepted.

I drop them off at the terminal, and I drive to the parking garage. I am five and a half hours early for my flight.

I check in the car, walk to the terminal: I see from the blurb at the check in desks, I can't check my bags in until two and a half hours before my flight. That would be half past four, some two hours from now. I try to change my flight, but the handlers say there is nothing doing. I can buy a very expensive replacement ticket, or accept my fate.

I accept my fate and find a place to sit, pull out my magazine and read. That at leas takes me to quarter past four, so I have a few minutes to wait. At half past, I get my boarding pass and baggage label, I drop the bag and walk up to the security. No wait again, but on the other side the places to eat are through the huge duty free shop. I find a bar and order a beer and a pack of crisps: 97 DKK, about a tenner. Time creeps forward.

After downing the beer, I go for a walk, and find another place to buy a beer from. Looking at my watch I have just over an hour before boarding, so begin the long walk to the gate, only to find I have to pass through immigration. A ten minute wait in line brings me face to face with the policeman, who barely glances at my passport, and I am nodded through.

At the gate people are waiting for it to be opened: don't we all have allocated seats stupid people? Whatever. They queue to get in the gate, then queue to get on the plane. I am last into the gate and join the line to get on the place. I have somewhere to store my bag, so I am happy. Once again some folks have two or three bags. Why do they let them?

Once all bags have been stowed, we start off, and in ten minutes are in the air. The usual stuff; pay for food and drink, free wi-fi, movies on demand. I snooze.

It is hammering down as we are on final approach. Then there is the usual scrimmage to be first up to try and grab your bag, and so not be delayed by 5 nanoseconds. We do all get off in a fairly orderly manner. The usual long walk to immigration, but a short queue and we are through, our bags are waiting for us. As so is Jools outside.

It being half eight, if I had to catch I train I would not be home before eleven, and to be honest, I just wated to get home, so Jools came to collect me. Once we get the car, we are going down and around the garage and out onto the motorway, hurtling towards London as dusk fell. A light mist was rising from the road surface as the earlier rain evaporated. Onto the motorway to Clacket Lane where we stop for dinner. We can't face McDonalds, so we go to Costs for a sandwich and coffee.

Back on the road, heading down the M26 aand M20 towards Ashford as darkness fell.

We arrive home at half ten, and feeling shattered I grab a large dram and we sit out back for a bit as we relaxed. The whisky tasted sweet as planes passed over us, their lights twinkling.

But, it was the weekend.

At last.