Friday 17th February 2017

I have no idea why modern hotels think that a guest would not want to open a window. As the month progresses, each day seems to get warmer, as does each night. Using the air conditioning would have run the rist of an allergy attack, so I hope for a good nights sleep. THe late and large dinner meant that I was awake before four, so hot thanks to the combination of the lack of fresh air and meat sweats. I toss and turn, but there is no way I am going back to sleep.

So it is just as well that I have to attend the tool box meeting before the guys sail, to make a speech about quality matters. Once upon a time I would baulk at speaking to half a dozen people, but 50 technicaians all ready to go to work; now no problem.

Anyway, I pack and having already paid, all I have to do is walk to the car park under the casino, pay the €44 bill for 36 hour's parking, load the car and drive to the office. And I feel and must look like death warmed up. I feel like shit, should have had a shower, but I did not want to be late for the briefing. I'm not.

After saying my considered words, I can get down to work, updating the files with the latest reports and inspections. It takes a couple of hours, but feels good to be back in control. My friend, Chris, cooks some bacon for breakfast, just as well as I had missed the one at the hotel, obviously. So some bacon and curry ketchup hits the spot.

COme half eleven, with the last meeting out of the way, I think I have done enough, so pack up and load the car for the drive to the tunnel. I say goodbye to the guys still working, and off I go.

I take the scenic way, down along the network of canals leading in the same general direction of the A10, but avoiding the huge roundabout in town. I join the motorway, accelerating past two trucks, soon taking the exit to head south towards the border with La Belle France.

There's more British cars on the road, it being half term, and most of them are in a mighty hurry, motoring past me at speeds in excess of 100mph, as I am already at the limit of 120kmh, and they leave me standing. Oh well.

I am feeling no better, and my eyes itch thanks to the lack of sleep, but at least the drive down to the port is just over an hour, I'd be OK. Once I reach Calais, I think about going to the wine warehouse, but decide against it, it can wait as I'm back in two weeks.

There are lines at the tunnel, not too bad, takes about 20 minutes to get through the two sets of immigration. There was just time to go to the lounge, pick up a baguette and a drink before joining the short queue of three care waiting to board.

We are let on, and I realise that the two cars in front are identical Range Rover Vogues, each with families of yummy mummies and various offspring. I try not to judge people, happy enough to people watch, but bot families clearly not short of a bob or two. Last thing I heard when it was time go drive off, was one of the Mums saying "have you all got your i pads?"

Once we have driven off and gone round the ramp and onto the on ramp to the motorway, they accelerate away, but I have a lane to myself leading back onto the A20 and back to Folkestone and Dover. On the radio, the Radcliffe and Maconie show starts.

I am home by half one, time for a brew and a sandwich, and unload the car before it is time to meet Jools on her way home from work down in the docks so I can drop the car off. It all works perfectly well, as I walk out of the car hire office, she pulls up, so I can get in and we drive home, and the good news was that the weekend had begun. With such a long hard week, once home I switch the mobile off, and it feels good to have done so.

It is clear to Jools, and me, that I am in state or mood to go to Tony's party that evening. I had forgotten all about it, and I groaned when Jools reminded me about it. She agreed to go to the chippy to get me cod and chips, meaning not only did I not have to go out to the party, neither did I have to cook either.

I have a night of music and quizzes: TOTP followed by Mastermind, Only Connect, a documentary on AOR and finally The Boss talking about the writing of The River. I should have gone to bed two hours previously, but Jools had gone out without a doorkey, so, I sit up drinking rumtopf. As you do.

At least that meant I would sleep well. Oh yes.