Thursday 3rd November 2016

It is the final full day away of six such weeks. I have spoken before that it is not a cage as such, and there are worse jobs, living in hotels, eating and drinking out each night. But it is not like being home, and the one thing keeping me going this week has been the thought that my snap request to take next week off was approved. Or it wasn't disapproved, which amounts the same thing, in my mind at least.

The morning was dark, but getting lighter, and wan't raining. It was a cool but calm morning, meaning the guys had sailed at quarter past six this morning, as I got myself out of bed.

I had breakfast, looking over at the old lady who seems to live here, as she shuffles rounf the banks of food choosing her breakfast and making filled rolls for the day too. The waiters make her a pot and flask of coffee and after a while seems happy enough with things. I could see waves rolling up onto the beach in the halflight, long, low gentle rollers, creating just enough foam to be able to be seen. Time is tight, so I finsih up and get the car out of the garage, as ever amazed that other guests can get Range Rover sized cars round the turns and into the tight bays.

I get the car out and weave my way through the traffic, still light given it is holiday time in Belgium, but slightly busier than on Tuesday and Wednesday for sure.

And then there was work. The same as usual, working away in the spare office, whilst my minions have their own. Something wrong here methinks.

Anyway, the morning fades into afternoon; Rune and I go to the garage to collect lunch, can then come back and take half an hour off to eat in the crew room rather than at our desks. This is real decadence.

Much of the same in the afternoon, but we wait for the guys to come back from site. Four passes, as does half past, and then five. Finally, just before six they return. So we talk about what they have done and seen, and happy with the situation, I return to the hotel at half six, with it been dark already for an hour already.

Once I dump my bag in my room, then grabbing my camera I go back outside to wander round the town, taking pictures of the fun fair, and taking in the sights and smells of the town in party mode.

Each town squares has a couple of rides, all lit up with neon and flashing bulbs. Mixed in where the usual fast food joints and stalls offering prizes for "skill". It is all very Belgian though, with many frites stalls, waffles and the rest. And it all smelt fabulous, and best of all, people of all ages were out an about enjoying the evening.

Once I had the shots, I thought about dinner, and was heading to one of the places along the promenade, probably that burger place. But near the street of bars, I come to an Italian place, all done up like a rustic taverna, but looked OK, and they had tables. So, I go in and am shown to a table deep inside next to a fireplace, which had no fire going, just as well as it was warm inside. I order a beer and spag bol, which wasn't special, but OK I guess. I know the company pays, but still, should be better than this, like they were not even trying.

I watch a family on the table nearby, work their way through starters, mains and deserts. They seemed very happy, and must have been hungry, as even though my pasta was a small portion, I struggle to finish, and instead of desert, just plump for Limoncello, which on top of the beers just about finishes me off.

Back at the hotel I try to watch the football, I struggle to keep my eyes open, and with Man Utd beaten in Turkey, and Southampton losing, I thought I had seen enough and went to bed.

Home tomorrow.

One thing I forget to mention was that my manager came down for the day, and a couple of weeks ago he set up a competition to see who would guess the closest as to when the installation vessel would arrive on site.

I got a text on Monday to say I had won, and he would pick up a prize on the way over Thursday. I was presented with a bottle of very fine Belgian beer, and had my photo taken too.