Monday 11th July 2016

Well, Portugal won the Euros by sending France to sleep with their dull football, and scored a goal when the last defender had slipped into a coma. They had to wake the referee up to award the goal, but so confused was he, that he gave the goal and so Portugal won. Shame really, as France had already had the bus they were going to tour round Paris when they won, painted all ready. A tad embarrassing when pictures of that leaked out.

I stayed up watching the game, sipping on pineapple rum and munching on Polish salt sticks until nearly 11. Still, up in 5 hours to travel to Denmark.

No trouble getting to sleep though.....

Monday.

The alarm went off at quarter to five, and it was cold and windy outside, nearly dark enough to warrant having the lights on inside the house; is it November already?

We have coffee and get ready so we are all set to leave the house at quarter to six, so to be in time to get to Folkestone for the half six train.

It has been two weeks since I travelled to DK, but here I am again, like I have never been away.

I buy my ticket and take my place on the platform; rain had begun to fall and with the swirling wind, there was no dry place under the canopy. Remember, this is July in England.

As the train pulled out, the rain hammered down and day turned to evening, or twilight really.

The train is half full before we get to Ashford, and not full even after leaving it. And then the skies clear and the sun shines and all feels well with the world until we pass through the rubbish tip that is the industrial estates around Dagenham until the long tunnel to Stratford takes the light away and leaves us with just darkness.

I have breakfast at Stratford as usual, and look for the Brixit edition of Private Eye; but its sold out. So I go to the DLR station and climb on a waiting train. It fills with young looking builders and labourers heading to sites beside the line at Silvertown, where new high rises are reaching to the sky. They look like schoolboys on work experience; maybe they are.

I check in and get through security only to find it chaos in the departure lounge, with most seats taken and young children using the passageways as playgrounds whilst their parents talk for hours on mobiles; it is the modern way of parenting.

I get a copy of Private Eye, and it is funny, but I realise what a joke the country is now, and little hope of it getting better any time soon.

The plane is delayed, so I get another twenty minutes of the brat in the next seat shouting at me trying to get me to respond. I could have punched it as I left, but decide not to. At the gate there are just six of us boarding, and a bus takes us to the plane where we have a good choice of seats. Even on a 29 seater there's enough space for a row each.

We take off and see London stretch out below us, but the view along the river is lost as we climb into a cloud, and I return to Private Eye. The clouds clear again when we are over the sea, all below are white horses seen through gaps in the clouds. I munch on a roll for my third breakfast. Or does it count as lunch. Not sure.

We are on time by the time we are on final approach over a partially sunny Denmark. I mean it's not raining: yet, so I'll take that. We touch down, or bounce down, and as it is windy I give the pilot the benefit of the doubt and award him a B+.

Have the Opel family car, say the car hire people. OK, and I have requested an automatic, as the gear shift of a manual would have played havoc with my bad shoulder. So, I load the car, work out how to put it into drove, and, er, drive.

I arrive at the office to find everyone either at meetings, out working or on holiday. Maybe I should go on holiday again; its a tempting thought.

So, I have a new bug to train, teach him all I know. Should I really tell him? He'll run away. Peter is a good guy, and despite me being honest with him, he's still smiling, which is good, right?

At four or so, I drive to the hotel where I am treated like I have never stayed here before. Where did you park the car they ask, over there I point, so to avoid your 25DKK daily parking bill. Oh, OK.

I have the same room as last time, overlooking the harbour, and almost level with the cloud ceiling, so I can see the next band of rain approaching. Oh yes, Denmark in July, like Britain, but with more everything.