Thursday 13th August 2015

I suppose by now I should mention some more about Saturday night, and how it well and all that and everything.

After seeing someone you have not seen for 30 years, shake hands, ask how they are and what they’re doing, what else is there? Do it again and again and again. Each time you see an old friend. Or more often than not, someone you do not remember. There was lots of this.

Who are you? Well, who are you? Were you in that class? Were you? Well, I don’t remember you. Nor I, you.

Some of us were playing who the feck is that as another old person came though the door. Sometimes we remembered, most times we did not. And then people we did remember changed so much, we would have passed them by and not realised.

And then there were the people who did you wrong, or you had feelings for back then: what do you do, ignore it, pretend all the stuff that happened had not happened? Pretend the person you are kissing on the cheek once meant the world to you? Is it better just to let things be? Upon reflection, I think it is.

Somehow time passed, drink was drunk, food was eaten and I refused to dance. You need a C+E licence to move me around the dancefloor these days! So, it all came to an end, handshakes were offered, kisses planted on cheeks, and the stumble to the taxi and back to the hotel. Was it worth it? Maybe so, seeing some really good old friends, see how most have thrived since school. And for the teachers, to see how their charges have taken on the world and lived to tell the tail.

It is all done and dusted, and for now, I am done with the school reunon thing. We will all be 50 by the end of the week; so what next, when we’re 65? 70? I don’t know, but I saw enough of the old town, the old crew, the old group of friends enough to know, that we have in common is the past, and neither the present of the future. Do we want to live in the past, revisit those old maths lessons, or do something more constructive? I think the latter to be honest. It does not mean I don’t care or love or have feelings for my old schoolfriends, its just not enough to warrant another weekend in Lowestoft playing who the heck is that, or what are we driving these days?

And then I have a RAF get-together later in the year: much the same as last weekend but with more booze and swearing. That will probably be my last one of those too. But then I said that last time, so who knows.

So, in the end, I went, I drank, I shook hands. I visited churches. As you do. I saw Mum and came home. Happy with that, for the most part.

Monday.

And here we are back at the start of the week once again.

A day working from home before the pain of travelling again on Tuesday.

Now, I wish I could tell you how I filled my day, I did work, I did wash up, hang the washing out, made lunch, prepared dinner, fed the cats, sat outside when the weather was nice enough. But, for the most part, the day is a blank to me. Other than the fact, these days of sitting around working from home would be coming to an end, well, if not coming to an end, there was going to be a break on Tuesday.

In the late afternoon, I switched the computer off and sat down to watch the first MOTD day of the season, or the first one I remembered to record. It was Sunday's with only brief highlights from City's game on Saturday. Anyways, we wuz robbed.

The evening as ever, slipped through our fingers. I packed as I was to leave quite early in the morning. I checked and rechecked my travel documents. I think I have everything.

Tuesday

The alarm goes off at six, and straight away, I relaise there is something wrong. I am in the middle of a migraine attack, my vision so bad, I can hardly see. Well, maybe not quite that bad, but as bad as I ever have had one. I decide not to let Jools dropped me off at the station, and instead wait an hour and get a taxi, thus giving me time to get over the migraine. That, and I realise I would have nearly 4 hour wait at the airport, which in the way things panned out, was very wise indeed.

The migraine passed just after Jools left, I had some fruit, but not another coffee. I took some pills, which is unusual and shows how bad the migraine had been. I organise the taxi for half eight, and am ready when the guy arrives ready for the trip to the station. At least with traffic back to normal, and there being no operation stack, the trip to the station is uneventful, just as well as he went down Jubilee Way past the docks, and yet we were not held up. He did scare the life out of me by not indicating, but then he is a professional driver, and I am not. Any more.

I buy my ticket, and sit on the platform waiting for the train. A high speed service eaves first, leaving just a few of us for the 'classic' service to Charing Cross. I sit with my head on the window, I feel washed out, and really just want to sleep. I may even grabbed a few zeds. Thankfully, I know the journey to Gatwick now without thinking too hard, so at Tonbridge I walk to platform 1 and board the train to Redhill. The line from Tonbridge to Redhill is a quiet one, so I get a seat and doze again as we rattle long through lush countryside and dark woods.

Next up is to board a busy train to Gatwick, just one stop, but there is luggage everywhere meaning we can only just get on the train. The Victorians knew how to build trains that could hold lots of luggage, we should be able to in the future in the 21st century.

Gatwick is busy, like most international airports. But it really is so much smoother than it ever used to be. As I enter the south terminal, the auto check in machines for Norwegian are there, so I get a boarding pass, drop by bag off and walk to security and am through into the departure lounge, or rather departure hall. I feel hungry so go to Nandos for a snack, a spicy chicken fillet in a bun and a small beer. And it was good.

However, when I went back outside to check on my flight I see that there was a not saying the gate details would be released at 15:40, over two hours after we should have departed. So a delay then?

And the delay went on, and the release time for the gate kept getting pushed back, until the time for our flight's gate and the one three hours later were the same. thought they us on the delayed flight would get to go first: but no, why not wait some more! A revised time for departure of five was put up, so I went to have dinner, in the faux New York/Itialian place, Frankie and Benny's. I had burger, which was OK. But at least I had eaten dinner, if just two hours after lunch, but I knew that by the time the flight landed, we got our bags and I drove to the hotel it would be half nine at least, if not later, and the kitchen would have closed.

The waiting just seemed to go on forever, and with no news, just the time when the gate number would be released being put back; being British, I don't like to complain, but in this case, I did. What about this delayed flight? Its delayed I was told. We have had no information. But the delay has been up on the boards. But WHY! 5 minutes later there was an announcement that the flight was delayed, but we would be boarding soon.

In the end, I can't remember what time we boarded and left, only that our troubles were not over, as once all were on board, and the bags of the two passengers who had not arrived were taken off, the gate could not be withdrawn from the plane, so we waited 20 more minutes until a man with a hammer could be found.

We were reversed out, engines fired up, and off we trundled. As to show how bad Norwegian felt, we were allowed one cup of coffee or tea each for FREE to make up for the five and a half hour delay we were suffering. We arrived in Copenhagen just as the sun was setting, the views out of the window looked stunning, but I was in the aisle, so I saw the back of people's heads.

We had half an hour wait for our bags, then I had another ten minute wait at the car hire place. Why stop now just as I'm hating it?

In a sign of things to come, the car's sat nav took me through the city centre, which looked very nice, but with the directions being blared out in Danish I saw or appreciated none of the fine sights. But at ten past eleven I arrived at the hotel. I got the final parking space behind it, and went to check in. The window of the room had been closed, and after getting all the afternoon sun was very, very warm indeed. I opened it wide, took of almost all my clothes and was able to relax. Jeez, what a day.