Friday 6th January 2017

Time to go home. Which is always nice. But as the early morning flight via London City had been cancelled, it meant a trek through Heathrow, then having to catch the train to Paddington. Just like last summer.

What it did mean was that instead of being at the airport for six, I could get there are the more civilised time of nine, or a few minutes later.

So I had set the alarm for seven, and once it went off I lay there for a while, listening to the traffic outside. I pack and get ready, going down to reception to check out and have breakfast for twenty to eight, and with a belly full of bran flakes and yoghurt, I prepare to leave at five past eight.

It was a bitterly cold morning in Esbjerg, the car said minus 3.5, but once I had cleared the windscreen and driven out of town, the temperature fell further to minus seven, eight and finally nine as I arrived at the airport. I know the way so well, and I could have overtaken in a few places, but with it being so icy, it seemed sensible to take my time and just follow the traffic in front, and anyway we were going along at the speed limit. The sky lightened as I drove, turning from indigo to orange to red and then to pale blue. And the sun rose as I rounded the roundabout outside the airport.

I park up the car, then get to the terminal as quick as i can as it is probably near to minus ten. But as soon as you go inside the building, there is the full benefit of the heating and air conditioning. I hand the key for the car in, check in and go through security, mixing with the Danes who were off the the apris ski slopes around Europe. I manage to get through, then walk through the duty free shop and up to the business lounge, I have a card now giving me free access. Although I wan't hungry, free coffee is always welcome, and if the sun had gone past the yardarm, I might have had a beer. But not today.

I check mails, make calls, making use of the unlimited free internet, before it is time to go to the gate. Now, going via Heathrow, which means a bigger plane, but then, more passengers. So we crowd on, even though we have allocated seats, just the greedy stupid people trying to claim all the space in the overhead lockers. I carry all my stuff in a satchel now, so it don't matter to me, but I did see a couple with at least 5 carry on bags between them; how is this allowed yet alone fair?

So, we are all on board, announcements made, video ignored, and so we can taxi and then leap into the sky.

An hour later and we are circling over the Thames Estuary, although the ground and water blocked out by a layer of low thick cloud. After circling some more, I spy Kings Cross and St Pancras through a gap in the cloud, I take a shot looking into the sun, hoping it comes out.

A few seconds later, I get another shot looking over the skyscrapers of The City towards the River and The Shard, and in a moment it is gone.

We turn onto final approach, and over Southwark, the clouds part and the remainder of the run were are treated to the best views in the house as we swoop over the South Bank, with views over to The City, Westmonster and Fulham.

A quick shot of the ongoing work at Battersea, and all the interesting stuff had gone. Just miles and miles of houses and retail areas. All criss-crossed by roads and urban railways. So I put the camera away, and think about things to do once on the ground.

We touch down and then have to taxi for ten minutes to terminal 5, and after a short wait we all queue up to get off, walking 5 minutes to immigration where, thankfully, there is no waiting. But this means having to wait for the bags to be delivered.

Once mine comes, I walk to the arrivals hall, buy a ticket for the train, and the vendor tells me I have 12 minutes until the next departure, which means I am not in a panic to get space in a lift down to the platform. In fact I walk out of the lift as the train glides in, and after waiting for it to be cleaned, we are allowed on, and I take a seat on the right hand side so when we go into London I can look at the new Hitachi loco sheds and maybe see some of the new high speed trains. Freak? yes, I am I suppose.

We exit the tunnel from the airport, crossing over the GWML over the new bridge, then taking the fast line through Southall and into town.

At Paddington, I scour the platforms for new trains, but see none, so I make my way to the Hammersmith and City platforms, only to find, depending on which sign you believe, that either there was a driver shortage or signal failure on the line. Which means we had to wait for a Circle Line train; when it arrived, I expected it to be packed, but there was plenty of room. Anyway, from there it was a short 5 stop run along the oldest part of the network, through Baker Street, Great Portland Street and Euston to Kings Cross.

Along the passageways, up the stairs and into the St Pancras undercroft, past the rows of fancy shops and eateries, along past the Eurostar arrivals, taking the right turn under the platforms and up the escalators to the Southeastern platforms. I have a two minute wait for the train to arrive, and with 15 minutes to spare, I am on the 13:37 train back to Dover. I had skipped lunch, in the end I wasn't hungry, and Jools said we were going to have fish and chips for dinner. So I could wait. I know how to wait!

Being a lunchtime train, it wasn't full, so I had a seat to myself, and on the way home checked off the landmarks, counted trains, doing the things I like to do on this journey. The countryside is still that wintershade of brown, or where all colours are subdued and have a brown tint to them from the mud. But as yet we have had below average rain, so there is none of the flooding we saw last year.

There is a taxi waiting at the station, I had called from London. So a quick run up Castle Street then along past the Duke of Yorks to home, and there I was, standing outside, paying the driver, free for the weekend. And I was tired. Again.

I wait for Jools to come back home, she stopped at Tesco to mean we did not have to go out on Saturday. I made a huge brew and put the radio on.

It was the weekend.

I have another cuppa when Jools comes home, she then goes out as soon as the chippy is open, as she had not eaten either. We sat down to eat at quarter to five, the fish freshly fried all golden and crispy. Perfect.

We are both pooped, but there is two more episodes of Long Weekends to watch; Reykjavik and Berlin, and they look wonderful too. More places to add to our list of places to visit.

And that was it, another day done, first week of the new year done too.