Tuesday 27th June 2017

Pay Day.

And then some.

But, I will brush over those parts.

I wake up in the air conditioned luxury of the hotel room in centraal Brussels, after a good night's sleep, and only stirring once the alarm had gone off.

In theory, I had an easy morning, I had to be at the airport by eight, but there could always be issues to deal with, so best be early to meet my colleagues and sit around kicking my heels.

I have a luxurious shower, get dressed in my shirt and tie, and after throwing by other stuff in my backpack, I go down to check out and then go for breakfast. It is yet early, but already there are a few others eating away and checking work mails. I look the part too.

A short walk past Sainte Marie Magdalene is the entrance to the station, I get a ticket and find a train going to the airport leaving in a few minutes. Down on the platform it is like the black hole of Calcutta, as my Grandfather would have said, possibly the most unwelcoming station in all of Europe, but I wait, and soon what was laughably called an Inter City service rattled in, almost empty, with the next stop after Nord, the airport.

Brussels airport is one of the hardest to get into; baggage check just to get out of the station, but then there was an attack there last year. I have no case, so able to jump the queue , and go to the arrivals hall to wait for Jesper and the others. Turns out I have at least an hour to wait, so grab a coffee and try to see how long I could make it last. I pass the time looking at people waiting, mostly chauffeur drivers with boards held up wit the names of their prospective clients written on. All seem to know each other, and one by one their clients arrive, either with just a briefcase or a dozen cases on two trolleys.

I sip my now cold coffee, and in time I see Jesper and two other arrive from the Billund flight, and then a few minutes later, Lloyd from the Manchester flight arrives. After shaking hands, we go down to the station to get tickets for the trip to Leuven, then down onto the platform as an even older and more rattly train shudders in. And there is no seats, so I have to stand in the vestibule, which smells like a toilet, probably with good reason......

20 minutes later we arrive at Leuven, and we escape the stink of the train and walk down the main shopping street to the customer offices: time for work.

Three hours or so later, we are done, the last visit to Leuven, and with five hours to kill before our travel back home. So we do what we normally do, head to the main square for special beers at The Capital. Only, it's closed. It had been sold , and now opens "after two", giving us more than an hour to kill. We take up seats in a street cafe opposite, order Hoegaarden Grand Cru each, and watch the world go by.

Yes, this is our last time here, it will be a huge miss once that sinks in.

We have a second beer, then walk to the burger joint around the corner, for old times sake. Burger, fries and onion rings each, and a coke, as we had drunk enough beer by then.

I walk back to the main station, arriving at the station to see the police arrive to see a gang of young yobs kicking another youth on the ground. A young man on a bike tries to avoid the fight, fails to see the steps at the edge of the pavement and crashes off his bike, breaking his leg. A few minutes later the siren of the ambulance can be heard approaching.

I squeeze on the train, get a seat, even though it is not too hot, I am sweating like mad in my suit, wishing I could change somewhere into my lightweight trousers and t shirt.

Once at Midi, I see I might be able to make an earlier train, so I ask about the cost: £140, getting back an hour and 50 minutes earlier, at least at Ebbsfleet, and with an hour to wait for a train to Dover. To get back an hour early. Not worth it. I decline and walk out of the station, make for a bar and sit under a parasol, order a Coke and Stella and write some mails. Time passes, the sun shines, and people come and go; air stewardesses, bums and people inbetween. I drink my beer and walk back to the terminal, check in and get through security in time to see the seven o'clock train leave for London.

We wait for 50 more minutes before our train leaves. Getting on board reveals a real treat; the new Eurostar, an e 320, and I am in Economy plus, a seat to myself, and soo after gliding out dinner is served, all the while the Belgian countryside flew by.

As I drink coffee, we enter France, the sun sinks low in the west, but is still light as we near the coast. Through the tunnel and back into Blighty, and then the annoying part of going all the way to Ebbsfleet so I can get on a train to go all the way back to Folkestone on. Its the only way.

I arrive at ten to nine, giving me 90 seconds to get onto the platform to catch the busy train back south, getting a seat and closing my eyes as the commuters drink beer and cider whilst staring at their mobiles or tablets. All is silent on the train. And I am tired I close my eyes blocking the outside world out. Rain hammers down outside, but I think it will do the garden good.

Jools is waiting for me at Dover, we drive back home up Jubilee Way and the rain falls harder. There is just time for a brew and a scone before bed, falling into a deep, deep sleep after a long day, punctuated with strong beer. Situation normal then!