Sunday 8th April 2018

It was my own fault, really. Booking a flight, in fairness the only direct flight, to Hamburg. And that left London at ten past seven. It don’t take a genius to work out that either I stay in a hotel or get up mighty early to catch it.

We chose the latter, meaning getting up at half three and then driving the hour and 40 minutes to Heathrow,

All sounded good in principle, but in reality, after less than 5 hours sleep driving to the airport was the last thing I felt like doing. Jools made coffee, and by four we were loading the car.

But we have the radio! Only, in the wee small hours there are documentaries and interviews, and what amounted to over two hours of film soundtracks. Not that would be a bad thing, but sweeping strings and aural landscapes are good in the multiplex, but on the motorway, in driging rain, you really need something more entertaining.

The weather: yes, cool and very wet with rain almost the whole way, but at least in Kent the traffic was light, so not much problems with spray, but on the M25 and nearing the airport, like driving in fog.

But we made it to the airport just before six, I had driven, so I said goodbye to Jools, she got in and drove away, and I tried to check in. As I was travelling the one day, I had no check in bag, and had e mailed a boarding card to myself. I scanned that at security and was through, a two minute wait there and I was all done. In WH Smiths by ten past getting a sandwich and smoothies for breakfast, and I had a 15 minute wait before the gate was announced. All on time and no panic after all.

It is all pretty ordered getting on the plane, but the man setting next to me had a major BO problem and really did stink. It was pretty bad, and I was hoping he would either be moved as he was in the wrong seat, or keep his arms down.

He settled down and the smell faded, and once we were all on board, announcements and we taxied, taking off and into the low clouds. I closed my eyes and slept.

I had been checking the weather for Hamburg for the two days I would be there, and it had always said temperatures of about 35 and sunny. Are you sure you’re not taking a coat, said Jools. Well, the weather says warm and sunny.

The plane landed and indeed it was sunny.

After walking through the airport and outside, I can confirm it was warm too. And it was just ten. It would get warmer.

I went down to the S bahn station, bought a ticket and got on the waiting train. At first it ran through a tunnel, but out into the daylight, behind the glass, it was downright hot.

The train rattled its way through the suburbs, all lined with graffitied fencing, even the brand new panels. A shame, as all else is pretty tidy.

I got off at the hauptbahnoff, looked at the trains coming and going. I mean I could watch trains all day, but the weather outside, and with a city to explore. I went outside, looked at the tourist sign and walked in the direction of the Rathaus.

Along pedestrian boulevards, lined with shops that would not open until Monday, and in many doorways, people sleeping, wrapped in rags or newspapers. A jarring view when the sleepers were in the doorway of a designer shop.

The main square in front of the town hall was an expanse of stone paving, and scattered about were walking tours, people following the red umbrella or something. Not my thing.

I walked on and I found myself on the Rodeo Drive of Hamburg, Neuer Wall, where at the end of it is the offices of our customer. I walk down to check that I was right, and I was. Just over the way there was a canal, and beyond through an arch through a hotel was a square, and there were street cafes and restaurants. I was thirty and hungry.

So, I took a seat at the nearest, ordered club sandwich and a large cola, and settled down to people watch as they walked over the square.

A club sandwich seems just a way of using up leftover chicken and bacon, but it pretty good. It came with a portion of fries, and all in all, hit the spot. I was so happy with the turn of events, I had a coffee too.

Feeling human I felt ready to carry on, to snap the two unusual shaped buildings on the other side of the square.

From there I could see a spire, a spire with a viewing platform. Now, there was no way was I climbing 140m up a tower in this weather. Yes, really, but a grand church underneath should be investigated.

I walk over the main road, or under it in fact, and round the church to the main door, past the beggars, and find that the church will not be open until half one. It looks worth waiting 45 minutes for, so I find a place to sit overlooking a green space leading down to the Elbe, and people watch. And butterfly watch as a couple of Small Whites and a Brimstone flutter by, looking for flowers among the dogends.

The church opened, and I walk back up, pay a €2 fee and snap away. But there were bloody people everywhere; seems that we are all photographers now.

I leave the church and walk down to the river, but see what looked like an interesting street so go down there.. By now it was half two, and beyond warm. Hot.

I was thirsty, and that’s when I saw the sign for the Irish Bar.

Yes, you read that right.

I go in and have a beer, watch the highlights from some of the previous day’s games in the Prem. I have a second beer, and I could have stayed there all afternoon, but I had my hotel to find.

So, I walk on my by now tired feet back to the town hall, through the ruined church, past the still closed shops to the railway station, and get a taxi to the hotel.

He whisks me past where I stayed last time, past the Italian restaurant, past shops, and bars, over an intersection, and to the Grande Plaza.

I am getting warmer by the minute, so go inside, check in and go to my room, and after checking that there was no Prem on TV anywhere in Germany’s 140 channel, I lay on the bed and went to sleep.

I woke up after an hour, and although I had work to do, but that could wait, I thought.

At seven I went down for dinner; schnitzel and fries and gherkin salad and beer. I sit outside to eat, as it is like a summer’s evening. The waitress tells me that the week before they had snow.

And that was it, other than me putting work off until the morning. I potter around on the internet, then go to bed at nine where I am serenaded by some drunken Brits shouting the chorus to Oasis’ Don’t Look Back in Anger. Over and over again.