Friday 8th April 2016

Thursday

Despite setting my alarm on the phone; making sure it was fully charged and that the volume was on full: despite those three things, I fretted all through the night that I would sleep through the alarm, therefore I was awake waiting for the alarm to go off at five, awake at before half four. So, when I did go off, I was half ready for the off.

So I pack, have a shower, but being so early there is no coffee or breakfast on offer. Neither is there anyone on reception, so I leave my key on their desk, and walk out into the pre-dawn morning. Birds were already declaring it daytime, but the sky still inky black. The car is 50m down the main street, I open the boot, dump my bags and program the sat nav. Well, I program a recent desination which seems to suggest it is at the airport, I might regret that soon.

Down the deserted main street, through the industrial estate and onto the autobahn; what song does that remind me of? Oh yeah, this one!

20 minute blast to the airport, and the sat nav wants me to turn off a junction early, I ignore it and take the one the road signs suggest. Then I follow the sat nav which directs me back into the countryside, still in darkness, whilst the bright neon lights of the airport shine a kilometre away.

I turn round, and make for the bright lights, I miss the turning and carry out an illegal turn in the road, over the bridge crossing the motorway to the airport, then following the car hire return signs, to parking garage number 4.

I park the car, unload my bags and drop the keys off, a few minutes walk take me to the terminal, and I have to find the German Wings desks to get my boarding pass as their computer system had crashed. That done, and through security takes me airside, and thoughts turn to breakfast.

And coffee.

I find a quiet place away from security and order a sandwich, smoothie and coffee. It is perfect, and the coffee tastes like manner. That done, I find the gate and try to get my laptop to connect with the free wifi, with no luck. So, I read reports that were left over from the previous day, send mails out via my mobile, and I was up to date. So, I take out well-traveled but less read copy of The Spy Who Came out of the Cold, and was determined to finish it. Indeed, I read it on the bus to the plane, through the safety brief and as we took off, thus finishing it as we crossed the Belgian coast. I won't spoil it, but I suppose it made sense with the ending it did, I felt a little cheated in believing in the main character so much, only for him to be resigned to his fate: I thought he would fight for love.

I skip 2nd breakfast and stewed coffee, so am thirsty by the time we land at Heathrow, then have to sit as we taxi twice round each terminal building. Sigh.

We are allowed off the plane and we walk the 15 miles along faceless corridors, up and down randow sets of stairs until we come to the immigration hall. I wait quarter of an hour, half an hour, and hour, and more, before I get to the front, scan my passport and am back in Blighty. Officially.

Down to the Heathrow Express station for find I have just missed a train, and have 28 minutes to wait for the next one. Double sigh.

Down in the bowls of the station, there is no phone signal, so I stare at the walls, counting the bricks. Time drags.

A train arrives, so we get on and are soon flying through the tunnels towards Slough and the mainline.

At Paddington, with the rain steadily falling outside, I catch a Hammersmith and City Line train east towards Kings Cross and beyond to Aldgate, where I was told there was the Japanese Tourist Office; could I pick up some leaflets, asked Jools? In the end it was a ten minute or so detour, so I go and find the office, and the maps and stuff are all free, and the staff helpful, as you would expect.

On the way over, I notice the work on Crossrail going on at Barbican station, and my thoughts then go to the church in the middle of the brutalist structure that is Barbican; maybe it would be open? So I got off and went to explore.

Now, att he time Barbican must have seemed like a great idea; and in many ways it carries this off well: a huge, the largest in Europe, residential area surrounding an arts and culture venue; with no shops. Back in the 70s and 80s, my Dad's employers had the contract to refit flats here as they were sold. He was in London when the Aldgate Tube disaster happened, various IRA bombings too, and he survived them all, and the long hours.

I walk alomg long walkways, once I had found the stairs above streetlevel. I looked regually at signs and maps, and still it took half an hour to see the tower of St Giles in the midst of flats, nestling beside an ornamental lake. I find stairs down to the level of the church, walk to the porch and try the door; it is locked. Buggerbuggerbugger.

My feet are complaining, with the start of a blister on my heel on one foot. I decide to head back to the Barbican station, and then to Kings Cross, St Pancras and home. Well, to Folkestone.

I admit it, I am lost. I am at the large roundabout called London Wall, I look at the map, and cannot make out which road I should take. I walk a hundred yards along one street, then have a crisis of confidence, walk back and find a signpost telling me I was right after all. I am thirsty and a little hungry, so stop at a little independent place for a snack and a coffee. I plump for a "light" cream cheese wholemeal bagel, which goes down very well indeed, as well as a latte with an extra shot. I feel better much better.

I walk briskly to the station, catch a train to Kings Cross and seek out the new, so new it was unveiled on Wednesday, of Sir Nigel Gresley in the new concourse of the station, take shots then walk over the road to St Pancras. I have half an hour to wait, but there is plenty to look at before the train is ready for boarding.

You know the trip back to Kent by now, so I won't bore you. But I was in a good mood, if tired.

The replacement bus left from Folkestone with only a minimum of delay, and after getting some cash out at Dover Priory, I take a cab home, back to Chez Jelltex. The sun was shining, and it was even warm.

And as is the way, before going inside for a brew, I check the new flower beds for new plants and bugs. Happy with what I saw, I went inside, did a final check on mails, and then for me, the day was over. I put the radio on, made a huge cuppa and took to the sofa. But work called, I fielded phone calls, sent mails and then, at 5, I was spent.

Jools stopped off for fish and chips on the way home, I buttered some bread and made more brews.