Tuesday 14th February 2017

And back to work. Back to reality.

Tuesday comes round, and it time to return to the grindstone, to put in the hours. And travel to Oostende once again. I do need a car however, and due to the fact I was on me holibobs for the week, so could not have a car delivered or picked up on Monday, I would have to do it Tuesday morning, but this would delay my travel plans by at least an hour.

In the end it could have been worse.

Jools agreed not to go to work too early, so dropped me off in town at just gone seven, which gave me an hour to kill before the car hire office opened at eight. It was almost light, clouds had cleared, so I thought I would take a walk along the prom, take in the sights, take some shots and stretch my legs.

Jools dropped me off by the old Prince of Wales Pier, which is being rebuilt at the moment and so is out of bounds. Not quite sure what it will be like, as it seems funding from Europe seems to have dried up; odd that. Anyway, work is ongoing, so I take some record shots of the clock tower and pier before beginning to walk north.

Away to my right, the sun rose, all red and angry, but gave the promise of a fine day for travel. I snap it many times, and the reflections on the water and wet sand on the beach. Wading birds and gulls were searching for food before the tide turned. I looked at my watch to find it had stopped during the night, and when I looked at it, thinking it was twenty five to seven, it really read twenty five to eleven, or something. Upside down. I had no idea what the time was.

I walked on, crossed over Townwall Street and under East Cliff into the port and to the office, where the staff were having brews. It was quarter to eight.

I have come for a car, says I. In what name, so I told them. No ready until four she says.

Bugger.

But we can give you a different one. You’ll have to wait.

So I waited. 15 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. It was done.

So it was quarter to nine by the time I got back home, packed and made breakfast. I gulped it down, washed up and loaded the car. Nine fifteen.

I am on my way and halfway to the tunnel when I realised my phone was on charge at home. So I have to go back for it. I arrive at the tunnel at ten, having just missed a train, so have to sit and wait. So I pick up a free lunch, a copy of the FT and wait. And wait.

We are allowed to board at just gone eleven, and then sit waiting for half an hour while a fault is fixed. Announcements are finally made and the train pulls out.

All of this means I arrive in Calais at midday, and have an hour drive ahead, which means I was going to miss the meeting. You know the drill by now, through Calais to the motorway, up to Dunkirk then over the border into Belgium. Across Flanders and finally turn onto the A10. Half one.

No point in going to the meeting, as I had not been able to read mails or papers to brief myself, so instead go to the office to begin the catch up process and sort through seven and a half day’s mail.

I could not get a room in the usual hotel, so am back in the Mercure, which is OK, just has no parking, and so have to use the park beneath the casino at €22 a night, nearly as much as the hotel room.

And I have the usual room, not bad, but just a bed and bathroom really. There is enough time to dump my bags before meeting up with Chris and another Brit for dinner. Despite it being Valentine’s Day, there were plenty of spaces where I usually order the Thai red curry. Which I and Chris have, and washed down by a bottle or two of Trappist beers, is splendid.

Back in my room for quarter to nine to follow the City game via Twitter. One down after 29 seconds, 2-1 up after twenty minutes, and in the end hanging on for a 2-2 draw with Newcastle. Phew