Thursday 16th November 2017

Three nights in Denmark, and nothing more than 6 hours sleep, and I feel like crap. But at least I am going home, as long as I can get to Billund in one piece. I have time to check the internet, and sadly little of the madness out there had changed; Brexit still happening, Trump still not impeached. So, I have a shower, get dressed and pack.

I check out just before six, waiting for the computer to add everything up, then presented with a final bill. Have a good day the night porter shouts as I scarper out the front door to the car.

Despite it being before six, the traffic lights taking me onto the ring road take nearly 5 minutes to change, but once on the way, I only catch one more before I turn off onto the motorway, put my foot down.

A light drizzle was falling, but then this is Denmark, but not too bad, and as it was six, trucks all along the way south were banned from overtaking as they are in most places during the morning and evening rush hour. So cars can cruise at 130 kmh, heading south and west until I turn off at junction 57. Although I have travelled this road hundreds of times, it looks different in the dark, and overtaking is dangerous, just as well then that traffic went along at the speed limit.

I make good time, arriving at the airport at just before seven, just as planned so the queues at security should be at their smallest. Earlier there are hundreds waiting to board budget flights to Gran Canaria, they would all be in the bar by now, supping half litres of Carlsberg. And once I am through security myself, I see dozens of half drunk beers through the lounge.

But I still have a card to get me into the business lounge, where I meet my old boss for a quick chat before he has to go to catch his flight to Manchester. I fill up with a roll and two coffees, and check mails on the computer.

Soon enough it is five past eight, time to amble to the gate the other side of immigration, being passed by others who want to get to the gate first to be first on the plane to get to their reserved seats. I have no idea. Anyway, the flight is fully booked, meaning space in the overhead lockers is limited, but I find room for my computer bag. Outside, a mist had risen with the dawn, making me wonder if it was safe to take off. Engines are started and we taxi to the end of the runway anyway.

The engines roar, we streak off down the runway, into the air, and straight into thick cloud/fog, but the plane climbs until we break out into clear air, and to the horizon to the south there is mist and/or fog clinging to the ground. Away to the south east, the sun had risen, allowing me to read the Rail magazine, when I wasn't eating 2nd breakfast.

As we cross the North Sea, the fog clears, so once we reach the Thames Estuary I can see the landmarks down below: Shivering Sands, Grain, Thanet, Whitstable, the Medway, Grain, Tibury, Grays, Dartford. Getting lower all the time.

We land ten minutes early, then wait until bags are removed from the hold until we are allowed to get off, walking from gate 7 to immigration, where I can test my new passport at the automatic gates; and I am home. Please queue here.

A ten minute wait for my case, which means I miss the early train, so no need to rush any more, just enjoy a pleasant morning to travel home.

I wait for a train back to Stratford, then once in the concourse, I missed the train by 5 minutes, but hey, there's another one in 55. So I go to Smiths to buy the new Philip Pullman book, as I decided this would be a good thing to ready whilst waiting.

I am soon lost in the world of His Dark Materials, as the opening chapters set the scene, then on the train whizzing home, the story moves on as the new character is lured into the story of Dust. I am sad, then, when we pull into Dover and I have to get off the train and look for the taxi I had ordered.

It whisks me back home, up Connaught Hill, past the castle and along the Deal road to St Maggies. The cats are nonplussed, so I make lunch, sit down to look at the news, at which point I could feel a migraine building. Little else to do was to take to bed with the curtains closed and wait for it to pass. But each time I thought it was passing, I look at a computer screen and the words begin to be unreadable. Urgh.

Back to bed to wait for Jools, sitting in the semi darkness of the lounge as dusk darkened to night outside.

When Jools comes home we have lots to talk about; Mum, events in the family, the cats and work. We have soup and potato bread I had made. And the evening passes until half eight, when we both being tired, call it a night and we go to bed. I hope I have more energy come the weekend.