Wednesday 14th June 2017

We were both awake before the alarm. Summer settled over southern Britain at the weekend, and the forecast for the next two weeks, at least, is sunshine and little wind. Meaning that it is way too hot for sleeping, so we can now grumble about how tired we feel.

That said, an hour to get ready for work, make sure I have everything, and be at the station in time to catch the train at five past six, time to drink coffee, wash up and get dressed. It looks as though it is going to be a fine day, and yet I will see only some of it, either through the windows of a train, plain or automobile.

All work at home done, we are dressed and the car loaded, Jools takes me to Martin Mill, a whole two-minute run over the hill and over the Deal road. I buy my ticket, then sit waiting, looking and listening to the crows and rooks squabbling in the trees the other side of the line. It is already warm, and would get much warmer through the day. The train arrives, I get on and find most seats empty, so get one of my chosen seats, and get ready to watch Kent and Essex roll past the window as the train takes us to London.

Not quite as busy as normal I guess, but still standing room only by the time we leave Ebbsfleet. All are looking at mobiles, tablets of laptops, some working, but most watching TV or films, all in their own little worlds. I am riveted by the scene passing by the window, until At Dagenham, the line dives underground for the five minute run to Stratford.

I get off, and take the escalator to the concourse above, going into the café for breakfast. And once served I take the chicken tikka melt and my coffee to the seat overlooking the lines heading into London. I have loads of time.

A major fire occurred overnight in London; a tower block caught fire, and there are pictures on TV screens all over. I had not given thought that it would affect me, but not wishing to sound too selfish, I’m not, but many flights delayed because paths over west London were not available. Did not affect me, so I was spared seeing the smoke plume hanging over the city, an image that Danish TV would also lead with on the evening news.

Renovations/improvements to the airport are now finished, so each gate now has large seating area, so even when very busy, there is somewhere where we can escape to try to work. I try to dial into two meetings, with no luck, so read some mails, the watch people queuing to be frst on the plane when they have allocated seating. Always funny. And this was just on a hop to Amsterdam.

My flight is called, so I walk all the way down to gate 8, stopping to snap the view along the new corridor, only to find there are just five of us on the flight: the plane holds just 29 or so people but this is a new record. Through the summer there will be just one flight a day in each direction, but with luck I won’t be traveling much either, so, something to look forward to not doing. Eh?

We get on board, at least 6 seats each, so we can put our bags on empty ones, not in the overhead lockers, and I can settle down ready to snap stuff out of the window. But, we take off to the east, rising quickly over east London, turning back onto the old route, over the M25 and following the A12 to Ipswich until we strike out over the sea.

And by that time, breakfast was being served, so I much while looking down at the tiny ships below, standing stark against the clear blue sea. We fly over Holland, and I amazed how most of it is barely above sea level, most below it in fact, so I snap the fields and the edge of land as order gives way to the ocean.

Denmark is 12 degrees, more than half London’s 25, but pleasant, as summer is nearly here, and once on the road I can marvel again at the colours of the Lupins still a picture beside the road, but the odd small purple ones that line the roads on the verge all seems to have been mowed, in what seems to be a war against nature. Not looking very good.

Can I do the hire car company a favour. I wasn’t really listening, so I say yes, only to find that I have been given a VW minibus rather than a car. It will be fun, fun trying to get 11 people to fill the bus up. I drive along with the windows open and You Rock on the radio, not that they played anything resembling “music” as such, but it made the journey go quick, in that I wanted to get to the office so I could not listen to it any more.

People in the office are on the long downhill slope towards their summer holidays. All of them. The whole company goes on holiday in July, and those of us in operations just have to cope Any suggestions that this isn’t a good idea is just laughed at. But its holidays. They say.

I find a desk to sit at and work, until it is time to have a meeting with my boss and during which he was going to reveal what my pay rise, if any, he was giving me. It went quite well, leaving me an hour to check mails and meet colleagues. Life aint that bad, really.

At five I go to the hotel, in the van, mixing it with the heavy traffic on the main road into town, turning off to get onto the road that runs past the Modern Art Museum, a right turn wold then bring me to the hotel. Now, I was worried, because of the small car park in front of the hotel was full, the only other choice was the parking house beneath, and I had been worrying about the clearance of the roof and whether I would convert the can into an open top. If I drove hard enough.

I get a space right in front of the hotel, check in and find I have a room on the executive floor. I go in, write some mails and look round the room, marvelling at the sofa, armchair, desk, washroom, mini bar, wardrobe and huge TV. But was something missing. I looked round and realised that there was no bed.

Where would I sleep. Maybe it was a zedbed, so I searched for spare pillows and sheets, but found none. I tried a connecting door but found that locked. I saw that the wall behind the TV was made of glass, and it was then I saw the door. I opened it and found the Queen-sized bed, and another bathroom, with shower, bath, toilet and bidet thing too. And it was all mine.

At six I go down to the bar for a beer, meeting Chris at half past so we could go for dinner. I sit at the bar munching on peanuts and emptying a 600ml bottle of local beer. This is good.

We walk down to the Smokehouse, and get the last table; it was chicken wing night, apparently. But I have short beef ribs and corn with bacon. The place is rammed, but as we didn’t get there until seven, it begins to empty as we eat dinner. My word we are lucky in being able to do this and call it work.

Because the company picks up the bill, we just have to do the paperwork.

We walk back, and with Chris recovering from fl, we skip a nightcap, so I go back to my suite and being the usual discussion in my head, which side of the bed to sleep!