Monday 18th July 2016

In just typical manner, high summer arrived just in time not just for the working week, but a working week in Denmark. It was going to be a very hot day, it even felt hot at half five when the alarm went off, so before leaving for the station, I went round watering all the potted plants around the garden.

Just before leaving, I look up into the sky and there is no clouds. It will be tough in London.

I say London as I am going up early, to have a mooch around and try to see a couple of churches before I travel to the airport for the flight, I now have to depart and return from Heathrow, a major pain in the ass, and one that means a half day travel now turns into a full day one.

I load the car, and Jools takes me to Folkestone, traffic is heavy as a ferry has just arrived, so we crawl through the roadworks along Townwall Street, work which may become irrelevant, as the EU funding for the Western Docks redevelopment may not now be forthcoming, another effect of Brexit.

Anyway, past lorries as they struggle to climb Shakespeare Cliffe, and onto Folkestone where I see a Javelin just pulling in, just when wasn't due. Hmmmm.

I take my cases out of the car, get my ticket, but on the platform there is news of delays; the train I had just seen leave was the half six, at ten past seven, and no news when another might come. I got ready for some waiting.

In the end the broken down train was cleared, and although two trains were cancelled, another left on time, although that meant passengers for two services were squeezed on it, we were pretty much on time, been if it was the seven o'clock train, or the half past. Who knows.

I get off at St Pancras for a change, I was in no hurry so I am last off, pushing my case. MY first target is the new work of art above the buffers at the far end of the station, so I weave my way though the crowds waiting to board trains for France, climb the stairs to the upper level where I could get clear views of the piece, a chromed blade that rotates, reflecting the station in itself.

And then down into the tube, for a hop to Paddington, to drop of my case at the left luggage place, which like most things now has been privatised and cost £12.50 for four hours, rather than the 50p it should have. Grrrr.

I managed to squeeze on with my case and take the 5 stops to Paddington, people do this every day I thought, and I could if I took a job in London, I have had them offered. Not in this lifetime.

I find the left luggage place, deposit my case, then make my way to the underground for a short hop to Notting Hill. Now free of the case, I can take shots on the platform and trains coming in and out. At least here the trains were mostly empty, so I could sit down for the two stops.

Next it was down onto the Central Line, where the modern age and the Gods of Air Conditioning had not yet reached, and squeezing onto another crowded train, hotter than a Turkish sauna. And I had over ten stops of this. But I was standing by one of the partition doors which had a window open, so there was something of a breeze to cool down.

At least my top half anyway.

I get off at Bank, then have to walk up the right exit for my destination; another church. But this one I have visited before, St Margaret Lothbury. I had last been here on a very wet Open House day, when we were soaked and the thrill of seeing so many open spaces soon lost their thrill, and we decided to call it a day very early and go home, as we were soaked.

Anyway, back here, and after walking three quarters around the Bank of England, I find the church and the door is open. A good sign.

I hear voices from the rear office, but they carry on as I go round snapping away, getting shots. It is a fine church, similar to several other City Churches, but decent enough, I am happy to redo my shots, with the new wide angle lens too.

I walk back past the Bank and the Royal Exchange to check on another church, one which is never open, St Peter Upon Cornhill. It is locked again. So I decide to make my way to my main target for the day, St Mary Abchurch. Instead of walking, I though I would catch the tube, only the walk to the Circle Line platforms went on forever, going up, down, along past the DLR station, the Northern Line Station until coming to the Circle Line, but this was Monument Station, meaning I had walked half way to Cannon Street anyway, and I just had one stop to ride; should have walked all the way.

Before walking to Bank Station, I decide it was time for breakfast. Or second breakfast, especially as first breakfast was just grapefruit segments and a coffee. I find an Italian place down a side alley from the Royal Exchange, I order a panini and sip from an ice cold bottle of orange juice, so sit on a stool byy the window to chat to an older gentleman about the changes he has seen in The City, and the wonderful churches and buildings that can be seen, and some of the less good ones too.

I get off at Cannon Street, and find it in chaos: there are gas main repairs going on, with traffic lights, and two of the sets of lights so close to each other and not in sinc, that the traffic is lines up blocking both. And it is hot. Damn hot. I know we have been waiting for such weather, but in London, without a breath of wind, it feels like I am walking on the surface of the sun.

I have walked up and down Cannon Street several times and never noticed the spire of St Mary, but then that is easy.

Coming out of Cannon Street underground station, crossing over the street, chocked with traffic as yet more roadworks were underway, past two junctions, and then up Abchurch into the yard, another street closed because of roadworks, but just a few steps off Cannon Street is another area of peace and calm in The City.

A young man is serving coffee, and has few customers I would think on what must have been the hottest day of the year, but I see that the door was already open, so I cross the card, nose scrunched up at the smell of the drains below, and through the door into a cool and peaceful interior.

Above the pews and marble floor, is a dome, painted to the glory of God, and is stunning. Apparently this was the practice dome for St Paul's, and it is glorious and managed to survive the Blitz too. I am met by a Friends guide, who asks if I need help, we swap words and news about other churches open, but is happy to leave me alone when she finds out I know the website and know my eggs.

Somewhere inside St Mary, when changing lenses, some dust falls on the sensor, and I do not realise, nor could I do anything about it until I get home where I have the air blower. But most of the shots are OK, just the final ones taken outside where the dust is obvious in the blue sky.

Once I am done, I sit outside on a bench, but it is in full sun, and it is baking, and I realise that I am not enjoying it. I need the bathroom, and these are in short supply until the pubs open, so I make my way back to Paddington where there are facilities, and a pub in which I can replace lost fluids!

I take the Bakerloo up to Baker Street, then along to Paddington, and once I had paid my 30p for spending a penny, I walk to the pub, order a pint of Pilsner Urquell on draft, and take it to the seat by the window so I could sit and look out onto the trainshed.

As I drain the beer, I see a vision in yellow and blue. It will mean nothing to most, but an HST, painted in original British Rail 70s Inter City colours, so painted to celebrate its 40th anniversary, so I take my camera to see if I can get some shots.

The lady working the ticket barrier, not only didn't mind me taking shots, but said it was OK to go onto the platform, without a ticket, to get shots. Many thanks to her and GWR,.

I collected my case and boadred a Heathrow Express, managing to find the single carriage with the air con broken, i moved to the next coach and settled down to leave.

At the airport i have lots of time, but I learn that I have been booked with a ticket with no baggage allowance, so have to pay £65 to take my case, and then that the £9 I spent the day before in reserving a seat is worthless as the computer had re-assigned me. I complained, asking if I would get the £9 back; but you are in row 3, sir, I am told. In short, upgraded.

Now, upgraded on a short hop to Billund isn't a big deal, but no one sitting next to you for a start, first off the plane at the other end. And food.

So, I accept the upgrade, pay the baggage fare and go through security only to find the flight delayed.

I go to sweary blokes Plane Food place and have burger as it would be too late once I got to Esbjerg to find somewhere open. All you get for the £15 is the burger, fries are £4.20 extra. And that is the bonus i used to get working in the chiller for a week at the chicken factory: a portion of chips! Would sir like to add bacon to the burger? I look at the menu: £2.50 for what would be a single rasher. I decline, thus saving the company some money.

By the time I am done, it is time to find the gate, and I discover that the delay has changed to being on time, and the flight will leave on time, and I have twenty minutes to find the gate. But that was a two minute walk away, and anyway, there is chaos at the gate and children are running around going crazy, and others are trying to jump the queue.

After ten minutes; priority boarding please, which is my signal to jump the queue, and once down the walkway, slither into seat 3F and close my eyes. Behind me soon, a family takes their place in the cheap seats, and their eldest son spends the entire flight either kicking my seat or playing with the tray table. I add his name to the list!

We are served High Tear: finger sandwiches, scone, jam, clotted cream and tea. It is lovely, really nice to be munching as we fly over sunny Europe. Needless to say I have the scone in the Cornish rather than the Devon fashion: jam then cream.

Needless to say, Denmark is cold and cloudy after all the sunshine a little south, but hey.

We have to wait ages for our bags, but then I am rewarded with an Audi A6 estate for the week. Lots of horses under the bonnet. I pack by back in the bag, start her up and just listen to the engine for the 45 minute drive to the hotel. Even then its just a purr, until you put your foot to the floor, then it roars, oh yes, my precious.

And there is a parking space at the hotel, so I take that, unload the car, check in, and once in my room on the top floor I find that the sky is falling again. So I have to have an hour's call with a colleague in which he explains how exactly the sky is falling.

Welcome to the working week!