Thursday 2nd March 2017

I am awake at four in the morning again, I open the sliding doors to the balcony, and I can hear the wind howling. I am on the top floor, so it seems that I am right in the middle of it. I do drop off back to sleep I suppose but jerked back to the world by the phone alarm going off. Best get going then, as its gezome day!

I pack, double check the room to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. It seems I haven't, so go down to the lobby, check out and load the car, before going back up to the mezzanine floor for breakfast; just the usual, fruit, yoghurt, stickbread and chocolate spread and sweet, sweet coffee. It seems the hotel is full, but I am alone until Manu joins me. Carnival starts that evening, by which time I intend to be back home in Blighty.

I finish breakfast, ponder whether a 3rd cup of coffee would be too much, I decide it would be, at least for now. So go back to the car park, and drive to the office.

As it is Thursday, I have two and a half hours meetings from nine, so I get my "proper" work done before the meetings began. Sitting alone in the office with the sounds of the meeting in the headphones, the meeting goes on for an hour, by which time it was time to join the next meeting. Sigh.

Another hour and a half of listening to others speak, and no chance to go get a coffee. By the time that is done, it is time to leave. Once last briefing to my minions about why stuff is important. And I am gone.

I have an agreement now with my boss that I will only travel every other week, which means I am heading home for eleven days, sounds almost like going on holiday.

However, it is still very windy. Once out of town and driving beside the canal, I can feel the wind trying to push the car into the water. This only gets worse after I join the motorway heading south, into the teeth of the storm. Truck are veering in all directions, and just overtaking seems dangerous. Once i get passed a long line of trucks, I ease off and decide its better to get to the tunnel a few minutes late than not at all.

It is a bright day, with clouds racing across the sky. And no rain.

I make it to Calais, through the junctions leading to motorways going to all other directions, arriving at the tunnel safe and sound. I check in, go through immigration, and the French customs take a facy to the cider I have bought for Jools. They seem to approve, but the Brits just want to know where I have been. So I give them the usual , truthful answers, and in the end are happy.

I just have time to dive into the lounge to pick up lunch, then back to the car to make it onto the next train, meaning I would back in Folkestone by one in the afternoon. It is a relief to drive off the train, across the overbridge, doubling back in the other direction, but taking the left hand lane meaning I was not going to London like all the rest. Back along the A20 and then up the Alkham Valley, up Whitfield Hill and finally along the A2 and onto the Deal road.

I had made it, and was back home. Even as I parked the car, Mulder is about demanding to be fed. He gets onto the patio chair to make even more noise, as I struggle to empty the car of my bags and the boxes of beer and cider.

Once unpacked, I boil the kettle for a brew, and decide that after everything, I should take an hour to watch Monday's MOTD while I relax. Relaxing and preparation are as important as work. Apparently.

Outside it was like a spring day, the wind not so strong, warm out of the breeze and the whole garden had come alive. It was just wonderful walking from bed to bed looking at what was growing or about to open its flowers. Making all the work we did last year in planting stuff, worthwhile.

I cook bangers and mash for dinner. It might be an old favourite, but that for a reason. I make enough mash so I can make lunch on Friday frying up the old mash. How clever I am.

The evening is spent bingewatching the final three episodes of Taboo. Not as good nor as profound it thinks it is, but worth watching anyway. It ends just after ten, just in time for bed.