Friday 16th June 2017

And, time to go home. Again.

Thursday night was filled with the usual worries whether the phone would wake me up in time, as seems that the new Sim cards we British employees have been given, do not like Denmark, and so without realising the phone is roaming, it switches to UK time. So, also as usual, I fret so much about oversleeping that I don't actually sleep at all. Or much. Anyway.

I have the morning planned to the minute; up at five thirty five, washed and dressed and packed by five to, check out by five past six and on the road. Soundtrack is the local radio station, Your Rock, or something, and is mostly peple grunting to a driving manic drumming beat, or chirpy adverts. I have enough of it by the time I am on the motorway and powering my way south. I have the side windows open, and the bus easily does 130 kmh, and when we pass two trucks hauling what looked like massive turbine tower segments, there was just enough space for the van to squeeze by.

It feels cool outside the van, there is dark low cloud and after the summer feeling of the day before, this felt more like October. But then I knew it would be warmer and more humid in London once I got there.

I had checked I had my phone with me, and I did feel more awake than last time I was here, and safer driving also I must add. The verges are a riot of colour, except the very edge which had been mown all the way from the motorway junction to the airport; a few of the dazzling pink flowers could be seen, but just a handful. I wonder why this was done, seeing the roads lined with such vibrant colour was a real highlight of being in Denmark at this time of the year. Elsewhere there are the usual Lupins, but also Valarian, Ragged Robin and Foxgloves. Incredible and vibrant colours.

I arrive at the airport at five past seven, deposit the car, sorry bus, and walk to the terminal to drop the keys off and check in. I was the only one in the queue to drop my bag, and no queue in the secuity section either. I am through and on my way to the business lounge in 5 minutes, passing colleagues who were just about to board the manchester flight. I say hello, and as their flight is called, climb the steps to the lounge, get a roll, some cheese and a coffee. All without managing to spill any coffee or drop the roll. Great news.

I eat, drink and check mails. Not much happening, just another mail, this time from the CEO to the project team. I send it on to the quality team, they did most of the work.

Onto the plane, and it is about half full, the usual mix of the rude business types who seem to not know the words please or thank you, and holiday makers. And me, a foot in both camps really.

We taxi, engines rev and off we go; bumping down the runway and climbing into the air, through the low cloud and into the bright sunshine above. Breakfast is brought round, and coffee. Holland passes below us as we fly south, clouds break and I can see tiny shops on the sea, moored around the old Luchterduinen wind farm. Those were the days And now we have new days, better days, if that is possible.

After an hour, we begin to drop, turn down the north Kent close, passing over Thanet, Reculver, Herne Bay and Sheppy to Grain. Lower we get, and summer colours in the fields and hedgerows grows stronger.

We fly the usual route along the Thames, dropping lower until with one more crossing of the river, we bounce down. Damn, it looks hot out there, the aircraft at their gates seem to shimmer through the jetwash as we taxi to our gate. All done, now the wait for ground crew to open the doors and say its safe to walk over the road to the terminal.

I am last off, as I have plans to meet Tony at Dover Priory at quarter to twelve, so I have so much time. So much time in fact, I could have caught the quarter to ten train from Stratford. Instead I sit in the cafe drinking iced caramel coffee watching trains come and go. After there is the shopping centre, not mall, to explore, but find that most stores won't open until ten, so I can't get into Foyles to browse the books. Instead I go into Waitrose to buy Tony and I lunch; in the end, it was charcoal bagels with smoked salmon. No, I have no idea other, but Heston had something to do with the recipe. Apparently.

I get on the train at quarter to 11, the train is not empty, but busier than normal, with people heading to the seaside. Most get off at Ashford for a connecting train to that Margate. How their children got the time off school, I don't know. Anyway, I call Tony and he is stuck in traffic just outside Faversham. Not just traffic, in a jam caused by a fatal accident. He's OK though. Change of plan, he'll come straight to the house when he can.

I stay on, call to book a taxi, and enjoy the last few miles of the journey through Folkestone and along the coast, under the famous white cliffs. The taxi is waiting, and the driving is waiting eating from a tub of winkles. Nice!

I thought I had 5 more minutes he says.

Anyway, he stops eating and i load the car with by bags, and he drives us up towards the castle, he grumbling about something his boss is doing I nod along, just thankful that the ride would be short.

We arrive and he is still moaning about his boss as I escape down the drive. I see there is no sign of Tony, so I call him and find he has moved 500 yards in an hour or so. This might take some time.

I use the time to empty my case, sort the washing out, and then have a shower and clean my gnashers. I feel much better.

Jools and Tony arrive within 5 minutes of each other. The traffic just cleared once the accident had been removed. And Jools had been shopping, so we have some stuff for the weekend. I boil the kettle and make brews at least for Jools and I, Tony has a Coke from the fridge. And we find out that he is leaving us on Wednesday, not next weekend, so time is already running out.

The plan is to go out to eat fish and chips in the evening, and want to try the place in Deal that was closed a month back. But as we try to drive in, we find we are at the end of a queue of cars staring at Ripple and probably would go all the way into town; several miles.

So I turn round and as we drive we change plans and decide to go to Folkestone to the chippy beside the harbour, and instead of sitting inside a restaurant, we could sit beside the harbour. Not as good as it sounds, as you might find out.

Parking is free, at least after six, and we find a space, then walk over the the harbourside to The Smokehouse, place an order for cod and chips three times, and wait. The fish is wonderfully fresh and the flesh white, we are joined by an audience of juvenile seagulls a a ginger and white cat, all of which want some fish. The gulls screech at us, and the cat rubs itself against us, but I'm not giving anything away.Jools gives the cat a few morsels, but the gulls don't get anything.

After eating, we walk round the harbour to look at the work going on at the old Harbour Station; no idea what they are doing, but its serious work; the awning is gone, and the wall on one side seems to have been taken down. Tracks have been lifted too. No more trains will run down here now, sadly.

We are back home by nine, enough time to write a blog and sit outside watching the bats catching insects. And it be the weekend, my lovelies.