Friday 28th October 2016

You know the drill by now. Up, dressed, pack, check out, breakfast, load the car and drive to the office.

Only this time, as I drove out of the hotel and towards the ring road, my way was, if not illuminated, but guided by a sliver of old moon, and underneath was the silver dot of Venus. Another two weeks have passed.

I drove to the office without incident, but there is always a moment of worry when turning off the roundabout near the station when in the left hand lane; will the car on the right turn right too, or just carry on? There must be some rules, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I arrive safe and sound, to find the offices in darkness as there is some kind of electrical check going on. So for the time being we practice being burglars with our torches bouncing off the bright surfaces. NO electrickery means no coffee either of course.

Power is restored, mails tumble in, and work can begin.

It is a rush to get everything down in the four hours I have before I need to drive to Calais to make the train I was booked on. There are meetings, more training, and much swearing to be done in that time.

I check with the team before I leave, making sure all is set and settled. From now on I am call 24/7, so there should be not much to worry about. Into the car and to the big scary roundabout, and seeing as everyone else does it, I stay in the left hand lane all the way round until I can turn off onto the motorway. It feels wrong, but it is without incident, which is nice.

Ten minutes up to the main north-south road, I turn south towards the French border, cruising at 70. The sun was out, and traffic not too bed at all. It was good to think I was going home for the weekend. Across the border, through Grande Synthe, where the road weaves through industrial areas and many railway lines.

I have booked on the Flexi ticket once again, and have time to stop in the lounge for a coffee and a comfort break. I am offered a sandwich, cake, coffee, picnic box, smoothies and cookies. I have a coffee and a cake, and take the box to have at home with Jools. It contains half a bottle of wine, cookies, crisps. Not bad.

We all leave to board the train and am able to jump the queues and right onto the train.

No messing about, other than the tannoy keeping cutting out, but we pull away on time, and having checked my watch, we emerge at Folkestone less than 20 minutes later, but then took 10 more minutes to circle round to the terminal. I have Nigel Molesworth keeping me company, nice and easy to read, but even with the light prose, i could feel my eyes dropping.

Just as well we have arrived, and that I have just 15 minutes to go before I am home.

I have two hours to kill before I have to go out to drop the car off, so I make a brew and have one of the packet of cookies and have the radio on.

At four, I drive into town, and with a ferry just arrived, the roads along to the start of the A20 are jammed, so I drive up and over Military Hill, past St Martins, back down the other side, then along to Snargate Street to the office.

A quick look at the car, and I am free to go with the receipt. I just have to wait for Jools to come to collect me.

And the weekend could begin. Only we were both shattered, as JOls had had a cold all week, and I was awake at four that morning. Oh woe is us.

Apparently.

I warm up some soup for dinner, and afterwards we watch Grand Tour of Scotland where it has now reached Loch Maree, within driving distance of the cottage on Skye I think. We shall see, eh Tony!

There is no Don now until the late winter next March, so we can go to bed at nine. And do.