Monday 29th January 2018

Scully seems to have decided she likes to sleep at the top of the bed, meaning that if your arm or hand is in her way, she will paw it until you move. In this way, Sunday night passed with she getting lots of sleep, and me not so much. Which explains, why at half four in the morning, I feel shit. Scully slept on.

We get up, get ready, drink coffee and are ready to leave the house at quarter to six, loading the car in the dark before Jools takes me down the hill to Martin Mill where I buy my ticket and wait in the waiting room. Like it was designed for waiting.

The train glides into the station on time, and I drag the case on board, stow it in the rack and take a seat opposite.

I was hoping it was going to get light soon, so I would see something of the countryside on the way up, but thick cloud hid the brightening skies, so all I saw was the occasional glimpse into a kitchen with the light on and no curtains as we glide down towards Buckland. Over the town, brews are made, breakfasts prepared and children got ready for school. We are already on the way to work.

More people get on at Folkestone and Ashford, and outside it is still dark, with a hint of blue through gaps in the cloud. The train is packed once we leave Ebbsfleet under the river and into Essex where there is now light about, a blue flat light that reveals the endless quays and docks, full of new cars to be transported round the country.

Down into the tunnel to Stratford, getting off and going for breakfast, looking at people rushing about as I eat the cheesy roll thing I bought and sipped the strong coffee.

The DLR rattles its way through the morning, through the Olympic Park, under the shopping centre, then down to Canning Town and on to the airport. Check in is no trouble, a bit of a queue at security, but I have an hour and 50 minutes before the flight, so not worried. At a distant gate I find a place to site, read some mails and stare at the planes out of the window, being ushered into the tiny slots, where they have to turn 180 degrees to be ready to taxi off when a new load of passengers board.

As luck would have it I was at the right gate, so site as fellow travellers arrive and wait to be first on the plane. Never did get this, never will. We have reserved seats.

I read a magazine I had brought from home, while the engines start, we taxi and engines roar as we lift off, following Speedbird I, which used to be a Concorde callsign, but now is a business class only flight from London City. Breakfast is served, and I make it disappear. Two cups of coffee and I am finishing the magazine as we drop through the thick clouds over Denmark, where it is blowing a gale and raining. Landing is interesting, but the pilot does well to get us down.

And once in the terminal, I am given the keys to a baby BMW thing, load that up and I am on my way, a light drizzle falling and some classic radio station blaring out Johnny and Mary as I drive, and I marvel what a great song it is, and a great voice Robert Palmer had.

The drive is uneventful, so I arrive at head office with 50 minutes before the meetings planned. Enough time for a coffee and a chat with friends.

Meetings over at five, by which point my boss and I are the only ones, other than the cleaner, in the building. I pack up and walk to the car, all alone in the huge car park and drive to the centre of town, alongside the tram tracks, over the canal, past ARoS to the hotel.

It was a rest day, so no phys, just time to relax in the room before meeting up with Anni and Bo at half six for an exchange of gifts and share a drink. We are all well, doing well and smiling. Which is nice.

The hotel restaurant has moved, but I go over as I know the menu will be the same, and burger, fries, onion rings and a beer is the order of the day, but it seems my appetite is not what it was and I leave half of it.

So, back to the room, call Jools and in the end go to bed just before ten, with the wind howling outside.