Wednesday 27th September 2017

If you have told me a few years back that I would be writing 45 posts a month by this stage, I would have thought you made, though in fairness many of the posts from the 1st and 2nd of the month are holiday posts, and what happened once we had returned. But still, that's a lot of writing, and either I must enjoy writing them, or the fact that some people might read them. Both in fact. And her we are on the 45th blog of the month, several Brexit ones, some ones detailing the issues Mum has, and the rest stuff I do. And it is worth pointing out as Brexit gets nearer, or not, the frequency of blogs on Brexit might get more frequent.

One thing though, that from Sunday I will be largely offline, so no blogs at least for two weeks I suspect, maybe even a month or more.

I woke up Wednesday in the hotel, with just the hint of noise from outside. I found Hamburg to be largely traffic free, even later in the morning, I stood outside waiting for my colleague, and just a few buses went by, and cyclists. Always cyclists. I have an hour to prepare for breakfast, so have a long shower and put on a shirt and tie so I look presentable. Down in the breakfast room, there is the usual stuff to choose from, so I find the fruit, although no bowls, just plates, so I try to get as much fruit salad on the plate, then attempt to work out how the coffee machine works in order to get a full cup, rather than a third, which is what I ended up getting first time.

Katharina joins me, and we talk about the meeting to come, and decide we are ready. I have a roll with butter and chocolate spread, as is usual in hotels the other side of the channel, and it works, getting the sugar hot with the rush of the coffee.

I go back up to pack, and then down to the lobby to check out and wait for Katharina so we can make our way to the office. Outside it was cool, and as I said before, traffic light, so I snap the scene, whilst I wait.

She arrives, then takes me down to the U-bahn station to get tickets for the train, then a quick ride of three stops brings us to a small ornamental lake. Around it were lined with grand and expensive looking hotels, shops and restaurants. It would cost some much to stay and shop here. In fact we end up going along a street lined on both sides with yet more designer shops, most not having prices in the window, and the voice of my Dad came back to me telling if there are no prices on an item, then you can't afford it. And he was right.

At the end of the street there was the office block. I say office block, it was a listed building, filled with art and a grand staircase. So, we get let in and walk up the stairs, where we were expected.

Some four hours later we leave. Phew. It was one on the afternoon, meaning I had four hours before my flight, enough time to dash back to the hotel to say hi to two more colleagues as they had arrived for another meeting before I would have to work out the metro system in order to get back to the airport.

We take a more direct line back, an overhead line, which I enjoy But then there hasn't been a train journey I haven't really not enjoyed. We get off at the Hbf, walk up the subway to wait in the hotel lobby, where a waitress tries to tempt us with coffee and lunch. But we are just waiting. Jesper and Torben arrive, we exchange news, but then they have to have lunch, change before their meeting, and I have to go, in case I get confused on the way, as the train, if I find the right one, will divide on the way, and I have to make sure I get in the right part of it.

THe line is called S1, so I follow the signs to the far side of the station, and wait until the right train pulls in, my German is just good enough to work out that the rear three carriages are going somewhere else, so I get in one of the front three, get a seat and see if I recognise the landmarks on the journey back. Turns out I do, as I see stations with familiar name, work ongoing putting in new walls that will soon be covered in graffiti, and so on.

The train splits, and one stop further on we enter a tunnel and arrive at the airport. I have to find the BA desk, as I have no boarding card, and find a long queue had already formed, and all had luggage to check in. Why should I have to queue too, if there was no self service facility available? Why indeed. I think about it, and on my phone log onto my booking on their website, confirm my seat, again, and have them e mail me my boarding card. That arrives in two minutes, so I was able to get through the barriers leading to security, join the lines to have my bag scanned. And once through I go up to the lounge, and make for the free beer.

Free beer is a perk of the business lounge, as is free snacks, high speed internet, soft furnishings and the rest. I will miss this when my membership card expires at the end of the year and I will be down with the cattle classes again.

40 minutes before the flight is due, I go down to the gate in time to walk onto the flight, take my seat. The flight is full, very full. So there is a lady sitting beside me, and once in the air it was clear that something was wrong. She huffed and puffed, seemed to be making a point when flicking through a magazine. Being British, I of course assume it is something I have done, and so try to ignore her, and at the same time try to take up as little space as possible.

As we approached London, we hut an air pocket and she jumped in her seat and grabbed mine and the gentleman's knees on the other side: sorry, I hate landing she said. She was nervous, not angry. Silly me Try to calm her down, offer her my seat, but that might have been worse. We circle round and round before dropping down, she twitching at every noise the plane made as the landing was prepared for. And once down she was back in businesswoman mode, on the phone and all that.

Instead of going home by train, I had booked a hire car, so I have to find their office, which was situated in the opposite direction of other car hire places and the signs I had been following. But it is there, and I am given keys to a Ford C-Max, and I can go.

I had chosen the car rather than the train so not have to go into central London, and by half six, seven, the rush hour should have been over, or the worst over. It was raining, and traffic was heavy near the airport and round to the M23, but I had the radio on, and Steve Lamaqc followed by Mark Reilly were on; good tunes, great tunes and the time flew.

By the time I got back into Kent, it was dark and a filthy night. I know the road, and when you can speed up and when to slow down as traffic would be thicker.

I got back into Dover just after eight, went to KFC for dinner, as it was the easiest option, taking dinner back home where Jools was waiting with the kettle freshly brewed.

I am home and all is well with the world. Or at least our world.