Friday 4th September 2015

Tuesday

And here we go again, back to work after a three day weekend, AND heading back to the land of ice and snow. I suppose that’s what comes with working for a Danish company?

In order to avoid the post-bank holiday rush, I decide to take the evening flight to Billund, even if it does mean a late finish for me, so late its nearly tomorrow when I arrive, in fact.

Jools goes back to work, it will be over three days until we see each other again, but these trips are now very commonplace, so common I don’t get any pangs of excitement before I travel. Heck, I just look forward to the journey home!

At eight I power up the computer, check mails, deal with the bombs nearest to exploding, batting most back over the fence. Then things settle down. I decide to work to twelve then take a couple of hours off, as I would have to catch the quarter to three train out of Dover, but as things turned out, it was meetings all the way. I cannot remember the last time I felt that I managed to take a step forward rather than endless ones sideways or back. But, I suppose it must be better than that, it MUST be.

I call for a taxi for quarter past two, and go upstairs for a shower and to pack, a final check of my travel documents and I’m all set. The taxi is just 5 minutes late, and I am pretty certain the taxi was powered by the driver’s anger as he complained about everything on the drive down into town and to Priory.

As it is the last week of the school holidays, I did think that the train might be crowded, but it was all very calm and peaceful, at least until a family of seven got on at Folkestone and then there was little peace. But I look out the window, and soon I am snoozing. The journey is really so familiar now, even if I have not done it for a few weeks, well, since the end of July in fact. London is, well, London, always busy, always crowded, and I just want to get to the airport so I can drop my case off and have dinner.

But, I am told that they cannot accept my bags until two hours before departure time, which is 5, so I must stand around like a spare part waiting for the clock to tick the 45 minutes. I do have the transfer deadline day news to keep me occupied. It is the one last crazy chance when teams can buy nor sell players, and despite having 100 days to get the job done, many leave it to the last minute to do a deal, in the hope of driving a bargain.

I drop my bag off, go through security and am sitting down for dinner at ten past five: the smallest most expensive burger you will see. The company is paying, but still it pains me to see rip offs like this, but if I don’t eat here, I won’t get to eat at all as the kitchen will be closed at the hotel when I arrive.

I finish up, have a coffee, then find somewhere to sit where I can read my magazine, then amble to the gate when the flight is called. It is dusk as we take off, and the lights of East London and Essex are soon lost in the clouds as we climb away. I close my eyes and try to ignore the angry man next to me who refuses to look at me, but is digging me in the ribs as he reads. Its only for an hour I tell myself.

We land in darkness, we are just about the last flight, I get my bag, sign for my car, and now just have the 50 minute drive to the hotel, but at least the roads are empty.

Finally, I arrive at the hotel, get them to open the sliding gate to to the car park, find a space, check in, and at five the eleven, I am in my room. Wide awake.

But safe.

Why not have lots of meetings to look forward to in the morning? Why not indeed?

Wednesday

I manage to sleep until half seven, which comes as a surprise to me. But not as much of a surprise as the sunshine pouring through the gap in the curtains. Can this really be Denmark? Yes it really can be.

So, I have a shower, get dressed, put on a shirt and tie, as I am meeting my new boss later in the day, and always good to make an impression. Downstairs I have a quick breakfast, but looking at my watch I see it is already ten past eight, and that means I will be dealing with the worst of the traffic on the ring road. Whnen I tell the outlaws that there are traffic jams in Denmark, they seem to be surprised and ask, where are they going? Well, to work, mostly seems to be the reason. Just like me.

The road is chocker, and I crawl round to Randersvej before turning north to the faceless industrial estate where we have our offices. It is half eight, and I have half an hour to say hello to everyone before the first of the day's meetings. And so it goes, meeting after meeting, interspersed with coffee and slices of sweet, sticky cake. And then lunch in the canteen and then more meetings, cake and coffee. While outside the sun beat down just like it was summer still. My colleagues are gloomy, it won't last they say.

At four I go back to the hotel to change and freshen up, then meet Manu in the bar of the hotel for a beer before grabbing a taxi into the city where we are to meet more colleagues for beer and steak and bonding. There is a music festival on, with lots of pop up bars around the city, so we pop along to a pop up bar and pop a couple of beers into our belly whilst a band play Dire Straites numbers, badly.

The rest arrive, so we walk to the BBQ place, where we have more beer before going upstairs to our table where we have more beer whilst waiting for the first course to arrive.

An hour later it arrives, we are not happy, and the staff are appologetic, but we really have been here longer than anyone else in the place. Free drinks? OK. Free starter? Oh, go on then. The steaks, when they come are good, and we have endless bowls of sauces, salad and asparagus, which is nice.

It is half ten, and poor Jelltex is tired, so I bail on bars and more beer, so Manu and I get a taxi back to the hotel. I think he went to the bar for more beer, but I head to my room, put the radio on and promptly fell asleep on the bed. Sleep well, sweet prince.