Sunday 7th November 2015

Thursday

After a restless night, but I suppose I must have got some sleep, although I felt like I hadn't slept a wink. The alarm brought me round, six in the morning, and two and a half hours to get ready and to the gate, which I could see from my hotel room. I throw the little stuff I had removed from my case, back in, and walk down to the reception for breakfast, which was mainly coffee. There were a few others down as well, although quite not as detirmed as me to get to the terminal and all checked in. Outside on the two minute walk to the terminal, there was rain in the air, but I got there without getting too damp, I get my boarding pass and once dropped off my case I walk through those Danes on their way for some autumn sunshine further south.

I take a table under the business lounge, so I could use the VIP wifi, I still have the code. I check mails and reply to those that are urgent. At eight I walk down to the gate, passing through immigration and find that the gate is crowded, which is not that unusual, but I always laugh at the business types queuing to be first on the plane when we have reserved seats. So, I am last on the plane, and take up my usual seat. The usual checks are made, I close my eyes and wait for the engines to start up and we can get on our way.

We climb into the misty skies, soon losing sight of the ground, but after a few minutes we break through the low cloud only to find another layer above us, meaning we are not in sunshine. I take the free breakfast; cheese roll and more coffee. I try not to look at the powerpoint presentation the guy in a seat in front of me is creating for Lego: I am sure all kids would be glad to know how serious the company takes its products. More to it than just bricks, apparently.

I get a glimpse of the sea as we cross the north of Holland, and I see the dyke I drove across back in May. The ground was lost until we were on final approach, I saw the Medway twisting through Chatham and the chimney of the power station on Grain; then it was the fuel tanks on Canvey Island. As we bumped across south east London, getting lower, we skim over rooftops, cross the river once more and are down on solid ground.

We file off the plane, then rush along the passageway to immigration. Looking at my watch I see that I have no chance of getting the early train at Statford, so calm down and ponder the coffee and sausage roll I will order at the cafe while I wait. There was a broken down train anyway blocking the line to Canning Town, so it was ten past ten by the time I reach Stratford. Walking into the cafe they know my order again, so I have the gingerbreat latte with an extra shot. And a sausage roll. And I get to sit at the table overlooking the tracks below so I can marvel as the Eurostars hammer through the station heading for St Pancras.

I climb onto the Dover train at quarter to eleven, having arranged a tax to collect me at the other end. You know the journey by now, but I mark each landmark as we rattle along at a fair rate across south Essex, into Kent and then under the North Downs to Ashford.

The taxi is waiting, the driver is not very talkative, but I squeeze some words out of him in the end. Once inside though, I am overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness, and so after turning the heating on, I take to the sofa and have no energy to do anything. I do keep my mobile on, in case of emergencies from work. It does not go off, so I deduce that no one is missing me for now.

Darkness falls outside, and in a move to make life simple, we have defrosted soup for dinner, which is very quick and about all I can manage. And that is it for Thursday, I can't wait for half eight to come round and then decide enough is enough, and once dosed with drugs we go to bed.

Friday

What with me waking up sneezing at half four and heavy rain forecast, the last thing I felt like doing was driving 104 miles there and back to Brighton to see Peter Hood and the Light in concert. I booked tickets back in April, and had hoped to have the beek before at home so we could have a fine night out. But, I had to make the decision at six in the morning, and with heavy rain and fog forecast for the journey back too, I decided that we would skip the gig. That I have been waiting since 1981 to see New Order songs played live, when I decided to revise for my CSE math exam instead of going to Norwich to see New Order: that they were notorious for starting gigs very late at the time, I thought it best. And yet, I pulled the pug on the gig; Jools took the car to work, meaning with the early start of the concert, we would not make it in time.

No point in crying over spilt milk, I suppose. So I have breakfast once Jools leaves for work, and I tackle the jammed inbox at work. I have a contractual document to review through the day, as well as attend meetings and make phone calls.

I have toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch, the cats bring me mice and bits of mice through the day, and at three I see no one else is online, so I decide that the weekend has arrived and pour myself a large glass of wine from the near-empty box. Cheers.

Jools comes home at just before five, so I start cooking chorizo hash. Once cooked and served, I have another couple of glasses of red wine, and that was that. No Don now until the late winter, so I spend the evening watching an FA Cup game on TV, and Salford beat Notts County 2-0. Hoorah,

Time for bed.