Tuesday 23rd June 2015

I have no idea how many folks out there read my words. According to the dashboard, just four people actually follow the blog, and one of them is me (don’t ask). So, at times I feel like I speak or write to myself, and so when I do get feedback via a comment it is like I have won the pools. A real joy. I also reailse that for the most part this is a I did this, then that, and then this and so on kinda blog, in that I give little of myself away, what I think. Maybe I am wrong on that, on the whole I do enjoy I enjoy my job, even the travelling that leaves me so shattered, knackered that I can’t think. But it is better than the blog I would have written some 30 years ago, which would have been something like this.

06:00 Got up, had breakfast, drove to the chicken factory.

07:15 to 16:30 worked on the whole bird line, either turning wings or stuffing giblets back up where the sun don’t shine.

16:30 to 17:30 Drive home

17:30 have dinner, listen to my cassettes or records, listen to John Peel. Go to bed.

Repeat for 5 days, then recover over the weekend.

And repeat.

We used to listen to Radio 1 on the factory tannoy, and the fact that Simon (master) Bates was the highlight says so much about the cultural wasteland that was the 80s. And we are nostalgic for these days?

Talking of nostalgia, this is the year of the reunion. I am going to two. Maybe.

In August this year, the final people in my school year, including me, turn 50, so we are having a 2nd, and probably final get together. Although the first one was my idea, I did not go. I am going this time, if Jon is coming over from Texas, it seems the least I can do. But, what do we have in common apart from the time in Mr Lush’s maths class. And so on? Well, I don’t know, I am quite looking forward to it, in a way.

Although I will have to explain why I am ignoring my old best friend’s frequent request to be a friend on Facebook. We have nothing in common is the answer. And to those who do not know, I did rejoin about 18 months ago, to keep in touch with these people, and the group of people I will be meeting in the 2nd reunion.

Why?

Well, I suppose it is good to know where we came from, how far we have come, and the popular guys at school are now busking for pennies down on the pier. None of us made that much of ourselves. And yet as I wrote that, I remembered one of us is a well known children’s author and illustrator. It’s not me, I swear way too much. So, we shall see what happens, and if I can really go home and not visit Mother. I was going to stay with her, but she says its not a good idea, so I am in a seaside B&B instead. Less arguments there one imagines.

And the second reunion is a RAF one. I was in the RAF, for, oooh, some 15 years. I joined up late, at 25, did 15 years and left at 40. See I can do hard sums too. But this being the case, I do not define my life by those 15 years, and since leaving the mob some ten years ago, I have attended one such reunion, or piss up as they like to be called. Well, in truth this is dedicated to St Barbara and will take place in Lincoln in November. I am taking Jools, for the weekend, not the drinking. We will be taking in the cathedral as well so to counteract the bad living.

So, being of a trade that was known, well known maybe, for hard drinking, it is an embarrassment for me to say I could never hold my drink, and I am even more lightweight now. Really, I am not embarrassed to say that, I am rather glad. I like a drink, but also to feel great in the mornings, and not have hangovers that now last three days.

Anyway, more of that later in the year.

Sunday

And here we are, another Sunday and getting ready to travel on God’s day of rest. Again.

I had hoped to do some orchid snapping before the serious traveling thing, but the clouds never cleared, and so I busied myself with photo editing, listening to the radio and eating croissants. As you do.

But all the time, our time together was slipping away, and just before midday, after a snack of Scotch Eggs, I loaded the car, and we set off for Gatwick. Gatwick on sea. Or not. There is nothing wrong with Gatwick, really, but in between Dover and Gatwick lay the M20, M26 and Ms5 and M23. Nightmare. Most of southern England were also on the road, heading down to Brighton for some winkles. Did they not know an international playboy and quality expert needed to get to the airport?

Traffic, more traffic with added traffic. It was slow going, but we got there with just over two hours before flight time. Jools drove off after I got my stuff out. I took the escalators up to the departure Hall, checked in, changed seats, checked in my bag, went through security, all in ten minutes, all painless. All the places to get food and drink were heaving, so I looked at my mails and answered some, threw grenades at others. Time passed.

I decided I would get something to eat, despite being at the airport for an hour, I still thought I had two hours to kill. I go to Frankie and Benny’s, a New York/Italian fusion place, like it was dreamed up in Basingstoke, which is probably was. I order a beer and a chicken wrap. I read, look at the web. The food arrives, I eat. I look at my watch. Five past three.

Five past three!

I had 25 minutes to get to the gate before the flight was due to leave. Thankfully, I have only a ten minute stumble, but it was panic time, but even so, I had to leave half my dinner.



Needless to say, when I got to the gate, hundreds of people were ahead of me, and the plane had yet to arrive. I shouldn’t have worried. We are still there at half three, quarter to four. And at four the aircraft arrives, and we are let on, in the usual mad scramble for overhead bin space for all the stuff folks did not check in.

I get a space for my bag, and settle into my seat, and fall asleep. I do stir on occasion to see us flying over Essex, the sea, Holland and Denmark. We fly over Copenhagen, turn round whilst losing height, so we are skipping over the waves on final approach.

Once down there is the scramble to be first off the plane. I wait for the rush to die down, then grab my bag and walk to baggage recleaim where I wait half an hour. And oh look, there it is, going round and round and round.

I am given a large Toyota 4X4 and a sat nav, so go to find it in the parking garage. I program the nav, and off we go, out onto Copenhagen’s wonderful motorway system, taking junction after junction, with it all looking the same, and yet the machine telling me the hotel was getting closer.

After getting my room key, I dump my bags and go down for dinner, just getting my order in at 20:45 before the kitchen closed. Lamb, chips, asparagus and garlic mushrooms, and two bottles of stupidly strong beer.

It is the longest day, and so outside the sun still shone brightly, but I was not going out, I had documents to read. Tomorrow night, maybe.