Thursday 5th April 2018

And just like magic, it is time to go home. The alarm goes off at five fifteen. An hour earlier UK time, meaning I will be a tired boy come the evening. But I will be home.

Outside, dawn is showing already, and by the time I pack and go down to the lobby to check out then go to the car outside, there is a blueness to the sky above and warm light on the horizon. I stop to take a shot just because. I climb into the car, find a classic radio station and pull away while the strains of Substitute by Clout blasts out.

The city is waking up, delivery trucks littler the side of the road and centre reservation of the main road on the way out, but there are few cyclists to avoid. Let me stress I have no trouble with cyclists, I am just terrified of hitting one as the rules at some junctions are different. They have as much right to be out and about as I have in my car, more so.

Anyway, out of the city, past Anni and Bo's house and onto the motorway, into the roadworks as I drive south. The clock just turned six, and I have plenty of time.

There are no dramas on the drive, as day crept over the land, showing the faded green grass in better light, but it still looked like winter there.

I park the car at the airport, walk to the terminal to drop the keys off before walking over to the BA desk to drop my bag off. There is a small queue at security, but I know the departure hall will be packed, so I decide to have breakfast before I go through meaning there will be no line when I do decide to go through. A crusty roll with butter and nutella and a cup of the bitterest coffee known to man does the trick, I am ready to check my mails.

I find a table under the VIP lounge and do some work, answering mails and throwing grenades.

It is quiet in the hall, maybe the rush to see some winter sun is over and with the end of the Easter break, Danes are mostly on the way home. But whatever, not as busy, noisy as usual, and no scattered empty beer glasses about the place.

I wander down to the gate and find that the flight is going to be half full.

We board and are all set to go right on time, taxiing to the far end of the airport, turning onto the runway as the engines roar into life and we lurch off, gathering pace and leaping into the sky, through the light covering of cloud and into the wide blue yonder.

I start to read the Secret Barrister book, but after 20 minutes I find my eyes getting heavy and I drop off for half hour or so. I wake up to find I had missed breakfast and we were already dropping down from cruising height.

The cloud cover breaks into little fluffy clouds over Essex, so as we follow the rover into London, I see the usual landmarks, and all the time we are dropping lower and lower.

We touchdown dead on nine, and I work out that if everything works out perfectly, I might just make the quarter to ten train to Dover. But we are kept on the plane ten minutes whilst they find ground crew to unload our bags, but through immigration to find my bag waiting. Up to the station and a four minute wait for the the DLR, it was going to be tight.

I squeeze on the train and try not to look at my watch as the journey takes as long as it takes. At Stratford, across to the international station, where I have three minutes. I try to get my ticket out of my wallet as I rush across the concourse, go through the barriers and picking up my case I walk down the escalators, nearing the bottom the train is announced. I am walking along the platform as the train glides in past me, meaning I can get on and pick my seat.

And relax.

The train is fuller than usual, a large group of people from Buffalo are excited to be on a train and seem to be heading to Dover to visit the castle. They don't look out the window as we hammer over the Kent countryside, instead they play cards. Therefore missing all the signs of spring everywhere, from the lush grass on the embankments, dotted with clumps of daffodils to trees about to open leaves. And above there is is the fluffy cloud filled sky. It looks like spring, but in fact is still chilly. I would only find that back home, but for now, spring.

I had ordered a taxi, and he was waiting for me as I left the station, putting my case in the back of the car. It was an ancient thing, with almost no acceleration, I think we were going to het hit on the roundabout at the Duke of Yorks; but we get across safely. And then to home.

The garden looks a picture, so I take ten minutes to check everything, see how and what has grown before I am joined by Scully who says "meow".

Indoors to unpack and have lunch before facing up to the fact I had work to do. So I log on and make phone calls, and arrange for a way forward.

I am done by four, and tiredness catches up, I should have done some phy, but I am tired. I intended to, but the mind wasn't willing.

Jools was bringing home fish and chips, so no cooking, just feed the cats, butter some bread and keep the kettle freshly boiled.

We really should have gone out for a walk, but the truth was it was only about 5 degrees outside, and neither of us felt like it, so we stayed inside and had dinner then pottered around until nine, and bed time.

The weekend is short for me this week, as I am on my travels again on Sunday, join me next time for news of that.