Saturday 10th January 2016

Friday

Its a good job I set the alarm as it struggled to wake me at half five DK time, that's half four UK time. I groaned and went to look at the snow outside. I suppose there was half an inch, and already I could hear the small squadron of snowblowers clearing the runway and dispersal pans. I should be OK I thought.

I got dressed and packed again. Along the corridor I handed the key in at the desk and went to have breakfast: cereal and a roll with two coffees. There were already a few people about, most families going on holiday I guess, but also others in the wind industry, judging by the logos on their coats.

Outside the wind was whipping the flurries of snow about, and as the evening before, it felt bitterly cold. And it was a head wind to the terminal: so I wrap up as best I could and curse myself for not bothering with the woolly hat can warm gloves. I have a warm work jumper on too, which is fine, as long as I was outside. Once inside I would warm up, but not until I checked my case in, which meant I would be carrying it until I got my case back, which as it turned out could be a very long time indeed.

The departure lounge is emptier than normal, so I find a table underneath the business lounge so I could use their wifi and get work done, check on the news and all the other stuff that modern life requires of us. An hour later it is time to board, so I walk to gate 2, show my boarding cards and I am let on.

Out on the pan, the snow is still blowing around, but the blowers are doing their work too. As we wait to taxi, two flights take off with no worries, so we should be OK.

Almost as soon as we lift off, we lose sight of the ground, I get a glimpse of the snow-covered Legoland and the streets around it, clear of snow. Up into the clouds and up until we break through the clouds and above us is just the sparkle of stars against the black sky. And yet, in the east light could be seen, hinting of dawn to come.

I have a 2nd breakfast, as I like a good breakfast as any hobbit, but I was getting full now. More rolls, more coffee. Many tanks, BA.

As to approach the English coast, the clouds clear and from about 20,000 feet, I see the sweep of The Wash flattening out along the north Norfolk coast, before that too heads south, fading into the gloom of pre-dawn. And I had no camera to record the view, so you'll just have to take my word for it, and how splendid it was. In and out of clouds, I get a sight of the snow-capped pennines as we get ever lower. Over several industrial towns as we turn onto final approach.

As glorious as the dawn might be, Manchester is not where I wanted to be. I check my boarding pass for the next flight and I see I had just 40 minutes before take off, and 25 before boarding was due to close. I walk from the aircraft and see a member of staff at the door to the terminal. I explain to her my situation, and she understands, let me see what I can do she says. She takes me up some back stairs to the departure area, I can see the gate from here. She has to call her supervisor to see if she can let me on without me going through immigration.

I hold my breath.

She can't.

So I have to go back down these stairs, through a door and onto a waiting bus. The three of us, it turns out, who need to connect to the London flight, are taken round the terminal building to the transfer entrance, we rush out, go up more stairs and me being first I show my passport. I am directed to a waiting area. There is no one manning border control.

I look at my watch, ten minutes before the gate closes.

I ask the guy on the desk why I am waiting: until your passport is checked. But you just checked it. Please wait. Grr.

I apologise to the two Danes with me for my country.

In time a woman arrives at the border; she power up the computer, logs on, and waves me forward. She looks at my passport and lets me through.

Up more steps and out into a corridor, opposite is gate 16, I have to find 18. I look to the left, and some 50 yards up there is the gate, with no people and a single member of staff on the gate. I run. Yes, run, to the gate, waving my pass. You from the Sun-Air flight he asked. I confirm, and he waves me through. The Airbus is less than a quarter full, but all eyes are on me as I make my way down the plane to row 22 to my seat. We then have to wait for the two Danes to make it, then we can leave.

The engines power up, we are reversed out from the gate and make our way to the piano keys at the start of the runway, jumping in front of a small plane heading for Jersey: take that boys.

Up into the sky we go, passing over an almost perfect patchwork of fields edged by ancient hedges. Climbing we pass over Crewe, identifiable by the network of railways lines spreading out from it. We follow the M6 down, losing it sometimes in the clouds, but always there when the view clears.

Despite the flight lasting just 40 minutes, there is time for a drink and another breakfast; which I refuse. Even I stop at two breakfasts.

We circle over north London, getting lower before we make the final turn over London Bridge onto final. I know this as the pinnacle of The Shard is showing through the clouds, would have made a fine picture, if I'd have had a camera. Clouds clear as we pass over Victoria, I see where we had walked a week before, including Buckingham Palace, but in a moment the view was gone.

We land and then have a ten minute taxi to Terminal 5, getting a look at all the other four, apparently. I am last off the plane, but as we have already cleared customs, we are a domestic arrival and so we can go straight to baggage reclaim. By now the single bag from the flight was waiting to be claimed, and it wasn't mine. I am asked to fill in a form and assured that my case would be delivered to my home. They didn't say when mind.

On the way to customs I see a guy selling train tickets, so I buy mine to get me into London, then just follow the signs to the station where the next one was due to leave in 11 minutes. I take my seat, and am joined in the seats opposite by a Dutch family in London for a day visit. The children are excited, but in ten minutes go from screaming nightmares into sleeping babes in arms. Their Mother joins them by the time the train moves off.

At Paddington I follow the signs to the Underground, just four stops to Kings Cross, and I get a seat. At Kings Cross, a long walk through tunnels to St Pancras up into the undercroft. Now, with the disruption to services to Dover, I was not sure when a train to Folkestone might leave, as the timetable is shot to pieces. I see I had 35 minutes, so time for a coffee and a slice of creamy gooey sponge. Naughty but nice.

I manage to get on the train without paying the 10p excess fare as my ticket was just from Statford. And it with these small victories we can win the war. Or something.

The run you know by now, in tunnels to Stratford, and another one until we emerge at Daggenham, then across the marshes to Thurrock, over the M25 then under the river into Kent.

We all get off at Folestone West, climbing onto a double decker bus for the last few miles into Dover. The driver ignores all speed limits as we power along the A20 over Shakespeare Cliff. I am sitting in the front seat on the top deck, and have wonderful views over the cliffs to France some twenty or so miles beyond.

The taxi is waiting for me, and despite the driver being a proper grump, I am in good spirits as he takes me home via Connaught Hill and the Deal road. Molly even comes down to check on who has come in, and seems happy that it is me, if I feed her of course.

It is two in the afternoon, I have been on the go ten hours and suddenly I feel very tired indeed. I take to the sofa, with Molly at my feet as the heating struggles to take the chill off the afternoon. The radio burbles in the background, and it is the weekend.

Jools is to bring fish and chips home for dinner. so I have nothing to do, other than to have the kettle hot when she arrives and have some bread buttered for butties.

Mulder is on medicine, as it seems he has been bitten, got infected and now the infection has burst on his leg. He is wanting attention, food and lots more sleeps than is normal. He is harrying his sister by the end of the day, so not all wrong with the boy then.

It is FA weekend, and Liverpool were on live, at Exeter. End in a 2-2 draw, and Liverpool were outplayed for most of the game. Exciting stuff, but I am shattered. Time for bed, I think.