Another day of celebration. Apparently. Well, we are to have a meeting of the project managers, and put our heads together and come up with some lesson learned.
Another cool and cool day, the techs tried to go to work, but the swell caused them to turn round, and so I lost the desk, IN MY OFFICE! and had to go into the large open one opposite. I did get work done, in-between all the meetings.
But before then, a morning in whiich I should have been able to get some work done, but people kept arranging meeting after meeting. And before I knew it, it was time to go over the the other building for the meeting.
I don't know what it is with business meetings, but clearly it is thought that all that talking and thinking is hungry work, as so much food always seems to be laid on. No difference here, three huge boxes of rolls and sandwiches, and then more biscuits, cakes and other stuff. It was for just four hours, so what size would we have been had it have been an all-dayer?
Once the talk was done, notes filed away, we walked to our cars to drive in convoy to the other side of Ijmuiden to a restaurant, where yet more food was to be eaten. And booze to be drunk. In getting there, I did at least see the shoarma place I had been told about, so on my next trip there, I shall dine on fine shoarma. Or shoarma at least! The venue was a Greek place, and the portions generous, coming after all the food of the meeting, it was a bit much. But some had keen appetites, and we ate well. I had a selection of skewered meats, yoghurt dip and rice, which was very nice, but I was bloated before I was done. Others had mixed grills or t-bone steaks. Don't know where they put it all!
One of the guys had an early flight to catch, so he was taken to the airport at half seven, which was also my excuse to leave as I had a very early flight, or had to be up early the next morning for my own flight home to London. So, I bid the team goodbye, we hugged and shook hands, it has been quite a ride, and all that is left now is to tidy up the loose ends and maybe have yet more tea and medals. One cannot have too many of those.
Friday.
My flight was at eight thirty, it takes half an hour to drive to the airport, another 15 to walk from the garage to the departure terminal, then a check in, security and immigration. So, leaving at half five seemed about right. That and with all the roadworks being down on the motorway past the airport, the junctions keep changing, so you never take the same route to the airport. Always good to be kept on your toes.I shower, get dressed, pack then go down to the foyer to check out. Too early for breakfast at twenty to six, so I load the car and plan to find somewhere for breakfast at the airport.
Traffic is at least light, so I drive through the town to the motorway, then onto the airport. Well, past a part of it, under another part, round another part, then double back to the parking garage, where I drop off the car. It was six, just, and the first of the guys had just arrived, he took my keys off me and said it would all be sorted. He had eyes like two little red marbles: I mean he could not have slept, I felt like crap, but he must have felt like death. Is it early I asked. Its so early, he said, its still yesterday.
It raised a smile with me.
A quick walk from the garage to the departure lounge, where the less frequent travelers were milling around looking confused. I printed out by boarding pass, once I had swapped my seat, then waited in line to drop my case off, all done by yourself now, but painless, once you get the hang of it. A brief walk to immigration, where there was no queue at all, then through security where there were few people about, but plenty of scanners working, so through very quickly.
I find a place to eat, I grab what is called an egg and bacon panini, but really is just a grilled roll, but it hits the spot along with a huge cup of coffee.
Another 5 minute walk to the gate, which sometimes involves another security check, but not this time. So I take my seat, write some mails on my laptop once I get the wifi to work. A modern problem.
There is the usual scramble for seats, or space in the overhead storage space, but I have chosen a seat at the back, which is less popular, so when I get to my seat there was plenty of room for my case. I settle in my seat, and to my surprise, there are no other passengers in my row, so I gave three seats all to myself, or at least until someone else takes the aisle seat after moving from his own crowded row.
After a long delay, we taxi half the way to London, then wait in line to take off. We are soon lost in low cloud, but as we pass into the cloud, I get one last glimpse of Ijmuiden below.
All of the sea crossing is lost underneath the clouds. I snooze, until the drinks trolley arrives at my row, as we had already began our descent into London. The first sight of Blighty is Clacton, with the pier and fish-tail-shaped sea defences. I recognise it, as I do all the towns we fly over. We circle over Grain, then make the final dash along the river, getting lower and lower before we bounce onto the runway. We are home, and it was 15 minutes before the time we had set off. quarter to nine! Which means I have an hour to get off, get through immigration, get my case and travel to Stratford. I was sure I would make it, which I do, with 15 minutes to spare.
I go into Smiths to get a bottle of Coke and two packets of cheese and onion crisps to munch on when I was on the train.
The train arrives and I find a double seat on the right hand side, facing forward: perfect. We glide out of the station, I pop the top off the bottle and open the first packet of crisps. Lovely dirty food.
Essex zips by, we dive under the Thames into Kent. And then onto Ashford and home. I quickly munched the crisps and drained the Coke. That felt better.
There was a row of taxis at Dover Priory, I get one, load my cases and he takes me by the direct route to St Maggies and home. Once I paid the driver, I walk to the back of the house and needless to say none of the cats were waiting for me. I open the back door and called out 'calling all cats'. None came.
I made lunch, well, some fruit and a small pack of oatcakes with marmalade. I put the radio on, and with a fresh cuppa in my hand, I realised that finally, I was home. Molly came up and greeted me with a meow which meant, where have you been fat boy, and where's my dinner? Anyway, I sat on the couch, flicked through the free TV channels, and Molly sat down beside me and rolled over showing me her belly. This i know was a precursor to the purring and the biting.
But she was happy. As was I.
At half four, Jools came home, but not before I checked on my work mails, and a whole new world of shit was brewing. However, it was shot that could, and would wait until next week.
Before dinner, with the sun shining, I thought we could squeeze in some orchid bothering, so we get in the car and drive to Sandwich Bay to see the Marsh Orchids. The site is known, but less visited than it should, and after our time last year, it would appear that no clearance has taken, so it is overgrown, but the orchids can still be seen. Just. Just off the main path there is an area packed with orchids, most of a huge size, including the monster Leopard, now measured at over 30 inches tall.
We scour the site, but find just more of the same, in that there were marsh and common spotted, but none as fine. So, we walk back to the car and then to home where we would have Insalata Caprese once more, this time garnished with fresh basil, which adds a wonderful touch to an already sublime meal. We sit in the back garden, watching the Swifts dipping and diving, which are soon replaced by bats as the sun sets, and in the west a sliver of new moon can be seen.
Once we had watched Monty, we go back outside, I sip from a glass of Danish whisky, stars come out and we hear the sound of airliners flying overhead, but their lights are lost in the cloud.
But it is the weekend. Well, 46 hours of it for me.
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