Tuesday 11th April 2017

And so my short trip to Belgium comes to an end. Although I did promise the company a full day at work before I go back home in the evening.

I am awake at ten past six, ten past five UK time, I try not to ell myself. I would have slept long by the 400 degree heat caused by the 400 tog duvet did keep me tossing and turning, alternating between not having duvet on, pulling it back over me, pushing it back off. And repeat for seven hours.

At least I have time to check the news before getting ready for work, then have a shower, pack and get dressed and go down for breakfast, finding the door to the room open, I can go in and find to my delight that strawberries are the fruit of the day, first time since October really. So I fill a bowl with them, top with yoghurt, grab a coffee and wait for Jimmy to come down to join me.

He does as I am having my sprinkle filled roll. I alternate sprinkles with Nutella, variety is the spice I life I hear. I even join him with a second coffee, as this will probably be the last time I will see hom, at least on this project as his role will end by the end of the month.

So it goes, so it goes.

We shake hands and I go down to the lobby to check out, then walk to the garage to load the car and drive to work. The roads are very quiet, until I get to the roundabout at the station where the bridge beyond is up, so there is a queue caused mainly by the confusing matrix signs.

After a couple of minutes the bridge is lowered and we can drive over it again, and so I arrive in the office to find that my minions have taken both desks in the office, so I have to go to the HSE office to be able to work.

And so the working day begins, only most of Denmark and Belgium are on vacation, starting their Easter holiday early. Construction does not take a break, mind.

I take some time off to try to go to pick up some tobacco for Kath, Adinkerke is a half hour drive away, and Chris says he will come with me. So, on a glorious sunny morning, we take the main road out of town, drive to the motorway then head south. Imagine our surprise to find two miles of traffic waiting to get into the town! Instead of joining, we drive on into France, take the next junction off and turn round and drive back to the office. A waste of an hour.

We have left over chili for lunch, with added chili powder and chili sauce, as we try to outdo each other as to how hot we can stand it.

At half four I am done, somehow the afternoon had melted away due to work, and now I could go home. And have nine days there. I go round saying goodbye to those leaving before I will return, and just like that the end is nearer and clearer. The salad days are coming to a close, and this is the effect.

THere is light traffic alongside the canal on the way to the motorway. Going this way avoids to big roundabout which will be mad with all the holiday traffic, even at this time in the afternoon. I turn onto the motorway, just 3km along it I filter off to join the motorway south.

I did worry the road would be busy, arriving at Dunkirk by half five, which should be rush hour, but traffic flows. Apparently there had been a fire in a camp for refugees, which explained why there was a high police presence along this stretch of the road. Over the river and main line railway to the south of the town, and we can go up to the speed limit of 130 kmh.

It was a golden evening, the sun getting low in the west, but not low enough to affect my vision as I drove. Through Calais the motorway wound, one last junction then filter right to the terminal.

There was a queue of about half an hour, so we all get into lines between the French and British immigration checks, then once through I can go to the lounge where I find I had just missed the ten past six train, and would now have to wait until seven. So I grab a gift box with a half bottle of wine which is in lieu of a meal, I have a coffee and in ten minutes we can proceed onto the train.

There is the usual mix of business types, hooray henrys in souped up sports cars, and boisterous families with hyper children running up and down. But soon the novelty of a car in a train wears off, and all is quiet again. We pull away, and come to the tunnel. I spend the journey reading the magazine which I still don't finish as we came out into the sunshine in Folkestone.

Off the train, and I am the only car taking the left hand lane off the motorway on ramp, instead turning back along the A20 into Folkestone then onto Dover. I labour along doing the 40mph up Shakespeare, the speed limit is to become variable, it can't come soon enough, to come of the crest of the down, and be presented with the gentle s bend into Dover and only be able to do forty on the dual carriageway is madness, especially when there is so little traffic about.

Into town, along Townwall Street, through the two new sets of traffic lights which now have replaced the roundabouts, meaning traffic stops even when there is nothing to stop for.

Up Jubilee Way, accelerating past trucks coming out of the port, taking the right hand exit off the roundabout, past the Swingate, all so familiar to me now, and one final turn onto the road to St Maggies. The road is lined with Cow Parsley, even more vigorous than it was at the weekend when I snapped it. Onto Station Road, down the hill, up the other side and home.

Jools helps unload the car, there is pizza and free wine from Eurotunnel for dinner, so I am happy. Despite just doing office work for two days, I am shattered again, so we retire to the sofa to watch Robot Ward, with Molly laid between us. Normal service is returned.

Outside the full moon rises, I take a picture because it is there, and then time for bed.