Saturday 15th August 2015

Thursday.

A day for travelling back home. Laying in bed, I plan the day in front of me, and I imagine I will be home by lunchtime, maybe one at the very latest. And am also planning on how I will fill those hours in the afternoon. Oh, it would be a good day. Although, there was the thought of something Jools said when I spoke to her the night before, she mentioned something about thunderstorms on Thursday, might affect me she asked. Nah, I said, no worries.

I pack and decide to skip breakfast in the hotel, and instead make an early start for the airport, just in case the sat nav likes to take me through the city centre again. And, as soon as it gets me to turn left out of the hotel instead of right I knew it would be a trip through the city centre. Again.

At least at half six in the morning the traffic should not be too bad, should it. Or so I told myself. And it was on a glorious sunny Danish morning so the drive, even through the middle of Copenhagen was rather wonderful, and even seeing the places, churches, spiral towers I failed to visit the day before. And then I had the crisis in confidence in the sat nav. At every intersection, there seemed to be signs pointing to the airport, and yet the sat nav wanted me to keep on driving in a straight line. So, in time I decided to follow the signs, only for the signs to stop, and I had to go back to following the sat nav which was back on the long straight road.

I turned at the next junction, through a large housing estate, and then after a roundabout, the road was closed, so I had to revert to the sat nav, which lead me back to the long straight road. There were signs to a an airport, but was this the international airport, or some tiny regional one? Would I make my flight?

All of a sudden, we came to a junction with a motorway, and I realised this was the main road to the airport and Malmo. And in less than 5 minutes I was in the parking garage and sorting out the bill.

A quick walk into the terminal, to the other building, I check in, get my boarding pass and drop my bag off. Up to security and through the huge duty free shop. I decide to buy myself a bottle of wine for my birthday. I kid myself I know something about wine, and so buy a bottle of Brunello, and then think I should buy something for Jools. So, a multipack of 11 chocolate bars seemed to be about it. Chocolate which I could share of course.

Inside the departure hall, I have a coffee and some kind of sweet pastry thing. I think that I should just wander to the gate to wait rather than find somewhere in the middle of all these people and shops to sit. I have to pass through immigration, and the other side there are very few people at all. And there is a coffee shop, so I have more coffee and a slice of pizza, it was breakfast after all. Now, I wasn't hungry at all, so I follow the signs to the gate, where already we Brits were queuing up waiting for boarding.

I am one of the last on the plane, I have an aisle seat and a small bag which will fit under my seat so I am not worried. Anyway, there was lots of room overhead, so we settled down ready for being pushed off. The pilot told us that we should not walk about once we near England as there were several thunderstorms about causing turbulence.

I watch the TV screens through the flight, endless Simon's Cat cartoons which is good enough. The flight is smooth enough, however when we were on final approach, the rain is hammering down outside and we only see the ground as we are skipping over the perimeter fence. But we are down and I was in Blighty, on the final leg now.

Off the plane, through immigration, collect my bag. All going well. I already have my train ticket, so walk to the station and see the next train to Redhill was due to leave from platform 1. Once I get out of the lift, I see that there is a torrential downpour falling, like someone was emptying a lake onto the station. It was almost dark.

Sadly, I fail to look at the destination boards on trains, and so fail to get on the first train to Redhill, but there'd be another in half an hour. There is flooding on the station, and some trains are delayed or cancelled, but still I am not worried. And why should I be, I mean after this is the 21st century so they would cope with some rain, no?

The train to Redhill arrived, and there are many seats, we trundle up the main line, then at Redhill I have a ten minute wait. Thunder and lightning rumbled and flashed around, it was not dull for sure.

The train to Tonbridge arrived, and I got on along with a family. Their kids were excited to be nearly home, but not as excited as me when they got of at Edinbridge and the carriage was quiet. Except for the rain hammering down on its roof.

Rain had stopped at Tonbridge, and there was even a hint of sunshine, perfect; I'd be home soon. I saw across the station that a train to Dover was listed on platform 1, so I carry my bags over the footbridge. Once on the platform I saw that the train was listed as 'cancelled'. It was worse than that in that all trains between here and Ashford were cancelled as the line was flooded and there were 'signal problems'.

We wait around, but the staff are brilliant, keeping us informed of what is happening. We are told that buses have arrived, and one is to go straight to Ashford whilst the other is going to call at 'all stations'. I do manage to get on the right bus, just as the rain begins again, and soon it is falling as hard as ever. Driving through Tonbridge it is like we are driving down a stream, but on the motorway it was like we were thundering along a river, spray was being thrown up, and all in all it wasn't nice.

In about an hour we arrive at Ashford, to find there are no trains due, and the staff just milling around and seem to fill their time by staring at young women's legs. It is a hobby, but some announcements would be nice. That when they did make at an announcement, it was at the same time as an automated security message, so both were garbled and we failed to hear or understand either.

At quarter past three, a high speed train glides in, and it is going to Dover. We get on and there seems to be no worries any more. Indeed We pull in Dover at quarter to four, there are even a line of taxis waiting outside, so there is no delay there. What else could go wrong? Nothing. We drive up Jubilee Way and along to Deal road.

I am home in just 12 hours. In three days away, I have had ten hours waiting time caused by delays, not just just sitting around waiting for flight times and all that.

Man, I was so tired. I walk down the drive and find the back door key. I let myself in and there on the worktop is the kettle. And this means I can have a decent brew.