Tuesday 3rd April 2018

Since the beginning of February, I have been on a never-ending series of training courses and meetings, that, if taken on their own were onerous enough, but couple with half a day’s travel either side and most weeks have a day maybe a day and a half of actual work time. I stay in nice hotels, eat meals in restaurants, meet and socialise with friends, so its not all bad, but, I am glad to say that this week is the end.

It does mean being up at half four in the morning, still dark and all but the hungriest of mogs is still sleeping. We have coffee, and get ready for our days; Jools her lunch and making sure she has her pass to get into the office, and me, my passport, oyster card, itinerary and spare underwear.

I wash up, put seeds out for the birds who are also just waking up and singing a greeting to the coming dawn, but dawn is dull and grey, as a steady drizzle falls.

Jools takes me to the station where I get my ticket, and wait under the small station canopy for the train to arrive. It is quiet as most people seemed to be taking the rest of the week off, or so I thought, but after Folkestone it is pretty full, and out of Ashford it is pretty much standing room only.

I can see the approaching rain by its headlights reflected off the rails before it comes round the corner, it cruises noiselessly into the station, pulling 30 seconds before it was due to pull out. Almost Japanese-like timing. I get in a forward facing seat on the left hand side, perfect, and with dawn now rapidly approaching after the clocks went forward since my last trip, I would be able to look at the passing countryside on the way up.

Snowdrops in Sandling wood have all gone over now, and left behind lush clumps of leaves, daffodils are everywhere, and on the approach into Ashford the banks are yellow with hundreds of primroses. Spring is here, even if the weather isn’t.

But the clouds have lifted and parted, the near full waxing moon shines down, and the day seems much more positive.

I have breakfast as usual, read some of my magazine, then take the DLR to the airport where everywhere is busier than usual, with families off on their holibobs. I drop my case off, and get through security, find a place to sit and check my mails on the phone. It shows just one mail. In total. No idea how that works. But that will be my excuse. No phone messages either, so I relax and go back to my magazine.

My seat reservation wasn’t good, and I am left with an aisle seat, no views, no photos.

Bah.

And so I settle in, get the magazine out and read some more. We take off, the plane moves around as we bank and climb. I try to ignore the dips and changes in engine tone, I was sure all was fine.

We arrive safe and sound, and in Denmark, it had just stopped snowing.

I get a VW peoplewagon thing, big enough for eight people. There is just me. I find a classic radio station playing Abba, happy with that I drive off.

Snow is thicker near the office, but melting, but there is a heavy mist hanging in the air, meaning I took my time driving up the motorway.

There is no sign of spring here at all. No flowers, and all that is still green, is the faded and subdued hues of last year’s growth. Such a change from home, where even if it is cold, there is spring everywhere.

I arrive at the office to find no one from my project about, and the expected avalanche of e mails just being a dozen or so. I clear those and can then stare out the window and arrange my evening social event. Going to meet Anni and Bo at their new house on the outskirts of the city.

Instead of going to the hotel, dropping my bags off and driving out again, I decide to stay in the office and chase some travel expense receipts, leaving at half five for the drive to their house, using the inbuilt sat nav.

The builders had tried to confuse the visitor by having houses with even numbers on one side of the road, spread out along a narrow close, I go down to where Anni’s place should have been but there was no number 139 between 138 and 140.

Odd numbered houses were on the other side and down the street a bit, arranged round a close like Brookside. There was 139. Anni was looking out for me, she waves. I wave

It is three months since we last met, so it was good, and they have a very swish house, tastefully decorated as you would expect from two photographers with an eye for detail. Anni cooked tacos whilst we talked.

All very pleasant indeed, meeting old friends.

But time passed too quickly, and at half eight I had to leave to drive into the city to the hotel, check in and do any work that might have come in. And watch the football.

I watched Madrid play at Juventus, and Ronaldo scored one of the all time great goals. He might be arrogant and unlikeable, but by heck he can kick a ball. When it is behind him and he has to flick himself over and kicking the ball into the far corner.

Wowzers.

Only sour note was that I am in a smokers room, didn’t know they had such things, but it was late and I could not be bothered, but I will ask for a new room for my second night.

Time for bed, said Jimmy Spring.