Thursday 21st July 2016

I woke up with what could nearly be described as a hangover. Almost, but not quite.

But it was a close run thing. And as ever, as the evening was panning out, I felt like one more whisky could not hurt, could it? Of course not.

Anyway, I slep through what time I would normally like to be up and about, so it was ten past seven before I opened my eyes for the third time and decided that maybe I should now get up.

Only it became clear that I should not stray too far from the bathroom. However, better put in an appearance.

The breakfast room is empty, apart from a couple of German couples up early. I had hoped to see someone I knew. As I walked past the reception, I could see someone waving from inside one of the glass-sided lifts; he was big and blonde and Jesper shaped! Jools says that some people light up the room when they enter it, some when they leave. And Jesper is very much the former, and is delighted me meet me, gave me a huge bear-hug and we swap news. But I have to get going, and he has to get breakfast, we make plans to meet in the office, but didn't in the end.

Usually, Arhus is gridlocked with traffic, but this week is slap bang in the middle of holiday season, and the city is more than half-empty. I take the road down by the harbour then turning up Randervej to look at the progress on the new tram line; it is nearly done at that end, with just the terminal station to complete, and further up, most of the track is now laid, and even half the line across the busy O2 road is half done.

The car park outside the office has a handful of cars, and once I swipe my card and enter, I find there are just five of us in an office for over a hundred.

And it is hot, did I mention that? I mean I know I joke about it being the frozen north and all that, but sometimes when the sun shines and the wind doesn't blow, it can be downright hot. And this day was very hot indeed.

I get down to work, but without being disturbed I quickly catch up and by lunchtime I am twiddling my thumbs. And that is when my stomach did it for me, and I thought the best thing would be to lay in bed, snooze, listen to the radio. So, I drive the car back to the hotel, even remembering the back streets way, and after grabbing two diet Cokes I go up to my room, hang the "do not disturb" sign on the door handle and throw myself into bed, whilst the radio quietly burbled in the background.

I may not have slept, but I took my brain off the hook, didn't even mess around online, just listened to the radio, and closed my eyes.

The afternoon slipped by, my stomach emptied itself, and I felt washed out, but by evening, was at least hungry. So I find the smokehouse that Chris took me to a few months back, booked a table, and at half six, I went out through the gangs of Pekemon hunters on the grass outside the hotel, then doen the sidestreet, right to the bottom where the Memphis Smokehouse was.

I have an ice cold IPA and it tastes like nectar, but not in a Fosters kind of way. I ordered smoked brisket and Jamaican spiced lamb and watched as the owners waited the tables, made small talk and welconed returning frequent customers. Their attention to detail was great, as was thei hand made sauces, made to compliment the dishes, which they do.

I am stuffed, and still feeling washed out, and in a rare move, I go back to the hotel to relax and go to bed at half nine, switching off the second Star Trek reboot film, and so I let Mr Sandman take me from this world once again.