Friday 3rd June 2016

I decided to no longer stay in the Zleep Hotel at the airport, this is because it is, quite frankly, crap. Even with the new wing they have built, so it seems when staying in Esbjerg at least, I will drive to the aiport the morning of the flight. This means getting up an hour earlier of course, and the risk of oversleeping too I suppose. But I set the phone alarm, make sure its charged and so there should be no mistake.

The alarm goes off at five, with the rays of the just risen sun pouring in through the gap in the curtains, it was still blood red. I have a shower, get ready and check that I have packed everything. Downstairs I check out and load the car, winding the windows down in the car so the warm air will dry my hair as I drive along.

It is good going, and the C Max cruises along at 95, just about on the speed limit on the main road up to Billund. I roar past a couple of trucks in second or third gear, but for the most part it is just open roads all the way. That and the glorious Danish countryside in full summer dress, it is wondrous. Especially as it is so grim a little further south.

I arrive at the airport, and with no one in the office yet, I just drop the key off and go to check in. As usual, there is an almighty rush to get through security, as there are a couple of budget flights heading to Spain yet to leave. I go to the cafe and have breakfast, check my mails whilst they all go through before following them once there is no queue. Upstairs in the departure hall, there are people and families everywhere, abandoned beer and spirit glasses little all flat surfaces. I find a table at which to work, and get down to some mails before my flight is called. Those heading to the sun, or warmer sun as it is so great in Denmark, begin to board their planes, and soon where once was an almighty buzz of conversation is all deserted, with just ten of us waiting for our flight to London left behind.

We board and are up, up and away on time, and soon Denmark is left far behind, and down below the clouds roll in and all sight of the ground is lost. I eat breakfast, drink coffee and finish my magazine.

I can feel the plane begin to descend from its cruising altitude, still down below there was no sight of Blighty. From the way the plane is moving, I try to guess where we are. I feel us bank steeply to the right, and I guess we are heading dwon the river with the City should have been in view. But isn't.

As we skim the rooftops of Canning Town, the ground becomes visible, with the DLR trains whizzing along, carrying people in rush hour; we would soon be joining them.

We land and taxi to a gate, a short walk to immigration. We are through so quick we have to wait for our bags, but then are free to leave. I check the time and I realise we are so early that I will make the earlier train home, and I would be indoors by about 11, or very close.

At Stratford I just have enough time to grab a coffee and sausage roll before going down onto the platform to wait for the train. It seems half term is over in London, and there are many free seats, so I take a place on my preferred side of the train, sipping coffee as we zip through the long tunnel to Dagenham. Once over ground my phone goes crazy as another urgent matter arises. Any thought of an early stack once home is gone as I will have to deal with that.

Sigh.

We arrive at Folkestone, then have to climb onto the rail replacement coach which, at the same time has the heating on full and the cool air blowers on. Its not a long trip so let it be. On the way I call for a taxi to collect me at the station, and so settle down for the tour of Folkestone and Dover as we make our way to Priory station.

I have a short wait for the cab, needless to say there is a line of half dazen other waiting for busness. Which was unlike last week where there was a queue for cars. Oh well.

The cab arrives and takes me home going up past the castle then along the Deal road to St Maggies. The garden has exploded into life, with the warmth and rain this week, and looks like a jungle in the flower beds. I open the door and there are zero cats coming down to greet me. So, I make a brew and a sandwich and settle down for an afternoon of work at the computer.

I am done by four, by which time Jools is home. We have coffee before she goes back out to fetch fish and chips from Whitfield. And it is Friday AND national fish and chip day too, apparently. Who knew?

We are both shattered, but manage to stay awake to watch Top of the Pops from November 1981 then our dose of The Don, something we have not seen for five weeks,. And his garden has also exploded into life too.

At nine, with thick fog outside, we go to bed, followed closely by all three cats, with whom we would play budge with during the night