Thursday 15th June 2017

Sometimes it just feels that the project will never end. When is a project declared over? When we have installed the last turbine? When the last turbine generates its first MW? When the customer signs a form? Or when we hand it over to service? Or when the final pieces of work has been done?

I ask because we had another meeting yesterday, and another email went out telling us that the project is completed. Again. And is that it? Well, I have two more bits of work to do, and then, maybe.

Thursday was the 52nd birthday of my best friend at school, and an ex too. But this year it was the date of the big handover.

I woke up at half six, a night of broken sleep caused by the 500 tog duvet and not being able to get the room cool enough. But I manage. Outside the sun had risen and was looking warm out there already. In Denmark. So, I have a shower, get dressed and go down for breakfast, having my usual, but staying away from the bacon this time, having a cheese roll instead, along with fruit and a couple of coffees. The room is full of business types, already networking or meeting colleagues. I also get to talk to a colleague as Lloyd joins me, like me he wants the project to end too.

I take the bus to the office, traffic not quite at its peak, but an adventure mixing it with cyclists along the narrow streets over the river and to the university, but OK once on the wide boulevards out of the city. There was time to check mails, share a coffee with a friend catching up on news, and then into the meeting room for four hours of going through agenda points, showing documents and explaining why jobs were not done quite like that.

But at twelve, we were done, two actions for me, and that would be it. We go to celebrate in the canteen, sitting around a table and laughing, making jokes. It is good to have achieved something, and putting up 50WTG that will last for 20 years is pretty good.

At three I leave the office, quietly, sneaking out as I was going to play hooky for a couple of hours. And I wanted to get a parking space in front of the hotel, so race through the city back past the Art Museum, nabbing one of the last handful of spaces, drop my bag in my room and taking my camera, go back out into the late afternoon sun.

I had checked my route, back over the river, hang a left and the museum should be there. The museum was called Den Gamle By, and is an open air one where old and interesting buildings from over the country have been rebuilt to recreate scenes from the ages; one for the 198th, one from the 19th and a street form the 1970s. I really did not know what to expect, but getting to the gates at four, I had an hour to look round and take a few shots. I pay my 100Kr and go in.

It really was well done, all set along a faux river, with a working watermill, medieval buildings along cobbled streets, all open to look round, if you had time. I take a few shots, trying to get them without people. A horse and cart rattle by, so I snap them.

By now it was the hottest part of the day, I could have done with an ice cream or cold drink, but had no money. So I pressed on.

Final scene was a street from the 1970s, with shops full of vintage cameras, and electrical shop with old TVs and reel to reel tape recorders. Just like the ones I saw growing up back in Lowestoft. There was a hairdresser, a supermarket, the forerunner to Tesco, and a cinema. All very good and actually felt like it would have done in a real town.

The city clocks struck 5, and so the last remaining visitors made their way out, me included. I walk back along busy streets and up the hill to the hotel, hoping to have a cold can back in my room. But the ones I drunk the previous day had not been replaced, so I make do with a bottle of water instead.

Later I decide to eat in the hotel, not go back to the smokehouse, as nice as it was, I had dreadful indigestion the night before, an really need sleep. But I find myself ordering a burger again, like there was going to be any other result. I watch fascinated as the couple opposite have the cheese board, but the board comes on the trolley, and a waiter carves slices of the cheese selection for both of them. I would just said, leave that here, I'll bring it back when I'm done. But didn't, obvs. It is good, but soulless really, but two minutes after eating I am back in my room, getting ready for bed, hoping that I might have a month at home now. Apart from those two days in Belgium the week after next.....