Friday 15th July 2016

I am awoken by a lorry revving it's engine below my room window at five to four in the morning. It is delivering the day's batch of clean linen. I know this without looking, because I have had this happen before, but never so early. I listen as the engine is switched off, the ramp at the back lowered and raised, trollies being moved, the ramp lowered and unloaded. This happens several times, and after 15 minutes, the truck starts back up and the truck drives off, and all that is left is the sound of the very early birds singing about catching the very early worms.

I suppose I must have dozed off a few times, but I am waiting for the alarm to go off. No point in getting up any earlier due to the lateness of the flight. I get up, shower, pack and with one look round the room, I leave it and go downstairs to check out. In the restaurant, there are just four other guests, as those who use the hotel as a base when working away from home have already left, and looking over the road the car park is almost empty too.

The drive up to the airport is so familiar now, I check off the landmarks, and with few trucks on the road, make good time.

I arrive at the airport with less than two hours before flight time, check in and queue to get through security, as there are so many flights heading south for the sun. The Danes are already dressed for the sun in shorts and flip flops, but are happy. Even happier with a couple of Carlsbergs inside them once through. I find a place to sit, connect to the poor but free wifi and check mails, send out replies.

We are asked to go to the gate in case we can get an early slot in London, but in the end we are delayed by half an hour, so either sit at the gate or on the plane for 45 minutes before we are pushed out and the engines start. I have read all three magazines I brought with me, so close my eyes as the woman in the seat next to me flicks through a free newspaper, brushing my arm each time she turns the page.

Outside we pass through the low cloud cover into the bright sunshine above. I see nothing of the land passing beneath us until we are nearing Holland. We cruise down the coast, I see familiar places like IJmuiden and the Hoek van Holland until we turn south east for Blighty.

As we turn down the Thames I get a fine view of East Kent, dotted with fluffy clouds, I can make out Thanet, Pegwell Bay and the curve of the land further south and all the way down to Dungeness. But it is soon gone, and we are lost in cloud as we circle above Essex. Round and round we go, with me looking down at a cloud at very close quarters, and the occasional gap to farmland in shadow below.

We are given the go ahead to begin final approach, but instead of flying over London, we cruise lower and lover over the Surrey Hills until we turn back lower over Richmond Park, the River Tames and then the urban sprawl around the airport.

We are down, but have a ten minute hold for our gate to be free by a departing aircraft. Other on the flight have a connecting flight to New York to catch within the hour, they are rightly concerned. I just have to get through immigration, which is now so painless even here at Heathrow, that I still have to wait for the bags to arrive. I bought some multi-coloured peppercorns, a bottle of rum and more fine chocolate before boarding the flight, so once I had put them in the case, I make my way to the exit nearest the Heathrow Express, where I realise that as my flight home had been changed to return via Heathrow, I needed not just a ticket to Paddington, but one from St Pancras to Stratford too. I ask an employee of Heathrow Express if I can by a ticket straight through? He says no. There are three different ticket machine, but I know if I use the one with the old BR logo, I could buy a through ticket to anywhere in Britain, even Stratford.

Should it be this complicated? How is the unwary traveller to know? Buying a through ticket saves me about 25%, and means I don't have to queue for a ticket at St Pancras.

There is a train due in 12 minutes, and after the inevitable security check, we are allowed on. It is soon packed, and despite being designed for runs to an airport, there still isn't enough space for all the luggage, and so all the gangways are blocked by cases the size of houses, and heavier!

I know the way to the Tube station now, up the steps, across the footbridge and down onto the Circle Line platforms, where i join the large crowd ready to board the next train. I seems to be in luck as the carriage that stops in front of me has room enough for me and the case, so I get on, stand away from the doors and endure the five stops to St Pancras.

The station is littered with confused parties of people waiting to find where to check in for the Eurostar, or how to continue their onward journey. I have half an hour before my train home is due, and all I want is a drink. I see a small place that did food also had a chiller full of cold beer and wine, so I go there for a Czech Budweiser and a bag of salted nuts. I sat at the bar and chatted with the Russian barman. He seems very happy with his lot in life.

Onto the train, a seat on the right side of the train, facing direction of travel too. And next to the luggage rack so I could keep and eye on my case. The train is not full, but next week will be as today is pretty much the last day of the school year. It will be hell next week. But this week is quiet enough. I call Jools to arrange her to meet me in Folkestone, then wait for departure time.

Through the long tunnel to Stratford where the train fills up further, then through the longer tunnel to Dagenham and onto Thurrock, under the river and into Kent. I had seen Dartford as we passed along the river a couple of hours before on the plane. Now I am was on the nearly final leg home.

Jools was waiting, and so after loading my case and bag, she drove upt to the end of the motorway, through the tunnels and along to Dover, braving the possible jams caused by the roadworks. But we are held up only a few seconds as the two lanes are funneled into one, along Townwall Street then up Jubilee Way to the Deal road and home.

Phew.

We have a brew and one of the bars of chocolate I bought home. Jools loads the washing machine with my dorty clothes from the case, so to be ready to do the whole bloody trip again on Monday.

We dine on insalata caprese with the fresh basil from the kitchen windowsill all washed down with some red plonk. A great end to the day, but I am washed out once again, not helped by the early morning wake up back in Esbjerg.

There is nothing to watch on TV, so we listen to the radio, then sit outside as dusk falls. There is a spectacular sunset as the day fades. I snap the skies, as it is 5 days since I last took a shot. Its what I do.

Just before we go to bed, we sit on the sofa, watching an old TOTP; Molly joins us, and lays against me so I can stroke her head for the full half hour; she purrs loudly along to the music.