Saturday 5th March 2016

Friday

The alarm goes off at half five, to allow me to get from the castle to the airport. Outside it is still pitch black, but even I could see the mist swirling about. Would be an interesting drive.

I get ready and then pack, checking the room one final time. I then I have to make my way down the maze of corridors to reception where I surprise the night porter who was reading a newspaper. I have to scrape with windcreen once again, search for the foglights, program the sat nav for the airport, then pull out onto the country lane which lead to the main road.

I find a 'classic' radio station to entertain me as I drove, but when Foreigner gave way to Boney M, I switched it back off. The fog passed in banks, making the drive interesting, but I did arrive in about 20 minutes, and getting out of the car, I expected to hear the sound of taxiing aircraft, or at least engines starting up, but heard silence.

However, inside the terminal I look at the departure board, and see there were no delays, so, lets hope so. There is a massive queue at security, so I go to the coffee shop for some breakfast, sit and relax, so that by the time I am finished the queue has died down so I can just breeze through. I suppose it is reassuring to know that when on their holidays, its not just the British that have lager for breakfast, as the departure hall is littered with empty beer glasses as the hordes walk to board their flight to Spain.

I find a table, and power up my laptop, check mails and the usual stuff that you have to do in the mornings. I wander down to the gate at eight, it is open, so I end up exchanging one seat for another, but the good news is that the fog is clearing, and other flights have already left.

We walk over to the plain as a gentle drizzle is falling, taking our seats and all of us ignoring the safety brief. I mean I must have heard it 200 times now. So, the engines fire up and we taxi to the western end of the runway, the engines roar and we lurch off, accelerating along the tarmac, and taking to the air, immediately losing sight of the ground as we climb into the grey sky.

For an hour, it seems that we are flying in a clear globe of air about 500m across, on all directions beyond that all is grey, just the weak sun showing away to my left.

Breakfast is served, and more coffee. And beneath us, the clouds part and I can see the sea, meaning we have passed over Holland, down the coast and are now striking back for Blighty. We seem to be a bit further out into the sea as we approach Essex, indeed we end up banking sharply over the London Array windfarm, striking south towards Thanet and home. We turn west but are heading along the coast, and I have fine views as we pass the line of resorts and landmarks eventually flying out over the estuary as Harty, Sheppy and Grain slide by.

Down we sweep, nearing London now as we cross to fly over Essex again flying low over the Dartford Crossing, all the building below I now know, flaps are deployed, the wheels lowered, and we swoop over the river and bounce down on the runway, back home at nine fifteen. Well, when I say home, back in England anyway.

I work out that I can't make the quarter to ten train, so I am not rushing to get off the plane, in fact I am next to last. Anyway, we have to wait ten minutes for our bags to arrive. I walk to the DLR station, I have just missed a train, but no worry, no hurry and all that. At Statford I have plenty of time for a coffee and a sausage roll. I sit watching the trains stop at the platforms below.

The escalator down to the platform is still broken, so I walk down the steps, only to see a new Eurostar until on the line that runs above the station, so I pause, get my camera out to take some snaps, waiting until it gets a green signal and moves off passing within a couple of feet of me.

On the platform there are a few other passengers waiting too, but once the train arrives there are more than enough seats. I close my eyes as we enter the tunnel under east London, it has been a week in which I have not slept well, I feel shattered again.

After changing onto the bus at Folkestone, we arrive in Dover at just gone midday, but there are plenty of taxis waiting, so I get the first one take me home, we go up Jubilee Way, and we swap views on the ongoing demolition at St James, we both don't hold out much hope what will be built is too clever. But we shall see.

Anyway, I am home, I put on the kettle, make a huge brew and slump on the sofa. I have had enough for the week, so switch off my phone, and watch MOTD, even the Norwich defeat.

Jools has chores to run once wrk finishes, so I have dinner ready for half six; kofte kebabs and fried potatoes, which is dirty but good. Tomorrow we will go out for curry, but for tonight, we will tidy up, have a shower and get ready for the new series of Gardner's World and our weekly date with The Don.