Friday 13th January 2017

I am angry.

No, I am beyond angry, I am incandescent with rage. And for reasons I cannot say. But I have been like this since Thursday, and my mood had not improved by Friday, maybe except to say it had evolved into an icy anger. Getting angry about it might help things, it probably won't. Still, getting angry, and venting does help release the pressure valve.

However, anger has to be controlled in a business setting, and in meetings. But sheer frustration was always in danger of boiling over. Anyway, apart from this, there is so much to celebrate; the first power produced by the windfarm, resolution of many of the issues I have been dealing with for weeks, and being in a general good mood all week. Let us hope this latest challenge will turn into another triumph!

Anyway, due to general anger I am awake at half four, Belgian time, grinding my teeth, as my brain won't let me sleep. Outside it is blowing a hooly. I have to close the sliding door as the wind is making it bang, and huge fakes of wet snow is falling, and settling for the moment. But it won't lay I say to myself. I put the radio on the listen to the rest of the Radcliffe and Maconie show, go back to bed and try to close my eyes to snooze, but sleep does not come.

I check the clock on my phone after what I think has been an hour, and am surprised to find it ten to seven. Better get going, then. Outside the snow has turned to rain, and what had settled some hour before, was now melted and gone.

My anger had cooled a little, but I had to pack, get ready for work and the usual end of trip stuff. I have breakfast, check out and go to load the car. Outside the wind is still howling, but there is no trace of snow at all. The offices have just another couple of the people already working, so I take a seat at a desk, and begin sending mails and preparing notes for the meeting. Away to the west, the full moon was just setting, hanging in the sky, golden but fading as the rising sun illuminated it.

Now, I had been checking the weather for Friday afternoon most of the week, and as the forecast hardened, it became clear that with gales and blizzards forecast, it could be a difficult trip. And so once the meeting ended at half nine, I write up the minutes, send them out and with there being no mails to deal with, I decide to leave for Calais.

I take the same route that Manu had taken on Thursday, down on the by road along the canal, joining the motorway just after the big bridge over the canal, and just a couple of miles before the intersection with the A45 south.

THe skies are black, full of something, and not sunshine probably. I press on hoping to get to Calais as soon as possible. THe roads are quiet, with no queues at the border with France, on through Dunkirk to Calais, where the snow begins to fall, in huge wet flakes again. It looks and feels like winter.

I was expecting queues at the terminal, but not much to report. I get my ticket, go through immigration and go to the lounge to collect lunch. I had just missed a train, so had 50 minutes before the next one, enough time to eat the roll I picked up from behind the counter, sit down to read the Financial Times.

it is time to board, and once again I am the first car allowed to drive to the loading ramp, having to wait while the train is emptied of those who just arrived. I drive on, stoppin with the front bumper against the sliding exit doors. Nothing left to do now other than to wait for departure and then the arrival in Folkestone. here is more than enough good stuff in the FT, including an interesting long read about Chinese investment in ports round the globe, ports that are then changed into military basis, allowing China to project economic and military power globally.

We are now arriving at Folkestone, I get back in the car and ready with my fingers on the engine key, for when the doors open and the guard can say we can go.

Off we go, up and round the ramp, round onto the slip road, past the filling station, with me the only one taking the exit to Folkestone and Dover rather than the main road joining the motorway to London.

I take the road along the Alkham Valley, all bedecked in snow and looking deep and crisp and even. I say deep, about half an inch really, but very wintery. I drop off the beer and tabs at Whitfield, before taking the backroad way back to Guston then up to the main road at The Swingate. Nearly home now.

I unpack the car, am ignored by the cats, but hey. I make a brew, and see if the car hire people will come to collect the car. They won't. So I call Jools to see when she was leaving work, she will meet me at the docks at quarter to three, giving me an hour to check on mails. I have had enough, and decide with the poor weather over the weekend, I will switch the phone off once back home after dropping the car off. Might do something for my sanity too.

We have a huge slice of the second Christmas Cake when we get home, while outside the snow has failed to melt on the ground, the sun sets and everything freezes.

I have two items to listen to when I get back home: first of all, a CD by Pale Fountains. I found a place online rather like e bay. A tenner for the CD was too good to turn down.

And then there was a New Order twelve inch. Run 2 was deleted after legal action by John Denver, true fact there, and so I did not get a chance to own a copy when it came out in 1989. But for £15, it too was mine.

I played both and they sound great.

Jools goes out for fish and chips, what with it being Friday and all. The fish is perfect, fresh and coated with crispy batter.

We are tired, what with me having been up since before four in the morning, so it came as no surprise to learn that we both went to bed soon after nine.