I had time for a lay in, then get up to check the interwebs, have a shower, pack, check out, have breakfast, load the car, go back and ask for the room key to pick up the stuff I had left in my room. Then I had to call in the office to drop messages off. And then I could drive to the airport.
I must have travelled this road some 50 or more times, between Billund and Esbjerg. I knew all the landmarks on the way. Anyway, I had a big powerful car, and when I cam up to a slow moving truck, I had plenty of horses to call upon to whisk me and the car, and my luggage past and onto the long straight road beyond.
The harvest seemed to have been mostly harvested in the three days since I went the other way, fields all stubble and bales. And then there was more wind turbines being put up, three beside the road and a crane lifting baldes on a forth. It all seems to work for Denmark. There are a large amount of Teslas zooming about on Danish roads. Although, not zooming about too far of course, in case they run out of juice.
I arrive at the airport,a nd all seems clam and empty. But then I see the queue for security; oh well, I have two hours before my flight, so why not spend it waiting to be scanned? Why not indeed.
I am trough, and check my mails to find that I have dozens of mails to deal with. I make calls, send more mails, make more calls. Phew. Worse than being in the office.
My flight is called, and so there is the usual scrummage to get on first, even though the plane isn't full and we have reserved seats. Words fail me how stupid people are sometimes. I am in row 13, and have two seats to myself, which was nice. But only get one cup of tea and one pack of lemon favoured cookies. Sorry, biscuits.
We take off in bright sunshine, but the pilot assures us it is pouring in London. But there are no delays. Does this mean the 30 minute stack has now been factored into the flight time now?
As we cross over Holland, cloud engulfs us, and all is white. Hope nothing flies into us, I think as we zoom along. That would be a bad end to the day.
Over London is is cloudy, grey, but not raining. We approach Heathrow from the opposite direction, along the M4, over Windsor and down. Hurrah, back in Blighty, which still is in Europe.
There is the usual scramble to get off the plane, but most let passengers in front off first, which means that with the short walk to immigration, and a successful passport scan, I have a ten minute wait for my case, in which time I make three calls and send two mails. Phew.
I have a ten minute wait for the train into London, then we hit just about every red light onto the main line, and again as we crawl into Paddington The driver makes repeated apologies for the delays. Well, it is an "express" I suppose.
I could have caught the Tube, but decide to treat myself to a cab instead. I had my big case and so it was easier I suppose. But as we leave Paddington and head east along Marylebone Road past Edgeware Road, Baker Street and Great Portland Street stations; in other words the very same way the tube train would take under the road. Oh well. Into Euston Road, past the station then past the British Library and into St Pancras.
The driver who had blanked me all the way to St Pancras, now would not shut up as I tried to leave after paying. Strange bloke.
I had half an hour before my train to Folkestone, and I was hungry. So, why not get something to eat? Should it be something from Marks and Spencer or WH Smithes? No, I went to Yo! Sushi for some raw fish. And Tempura shrimp, obviously. I manage to wolf four dishes down in twenty minutes, am able to pay and go up to the platform to claim a double seat on the train.
The train fills with families heading for Broadstairs and Margate for the weekend. The two children in the seat in front of me are excited by Pokemon Go, and discuss the differences between the different monsters. I soon get bored listening to the younger child, so I am relieved when they get off at Ashford and silence returns to the carriage.
Its still not raining as I load my bags into the back of the car; thankfully Jools has got to the station in time, so we can drive home and be home and brewing up for four in the afternoon.
And relax.
Steve Lamaq is on the radio, playing a fine mix of new and classic tunes. I prepare insalata caprese once again, why not when it is light and flavoursome? Oh, and there is a bottle of wine to polish off too.
There is The Don on TV, and some Scottish wildlife porn too. We are both tired, but it is the weekend.
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