Friday 1st June 2018

For a change I slept through until the alarm went off. I switched it off, and went back to sleep.

Only for 5 minutes or so, but it made all the difference.

I get up and get ready, get dressed and go to pack, before going down to the lobby to do battle and check out. I say do battle, as we need to put the head office home address on all bills now, or they'll be refused by finance. So there is the ten minutes

It gets done and I can go to the car, throw my stuff in the back and drive onto the main street and drive out of the city, along mostly deserted as I try to explain to the guy who has been on duty for eleven and a half hours and wants to finish, why its important the details are right.

It gets done, and so with the bill in my bag, I can go to load the Audi up with my case, and drive onto the main road, which is mostly deserted, and get out of the city. I had timed it so I arrived at the aiport with 90 minutes before the flight, should be OK, but as it was already half six, I begin to panic.

Onto the motorway and traffic is light, the sun has been shining for a couple of hours already and it seems warm.

I cruise down to exit 57, I remember it because of Heinz Varieties, and from there it is 20Km along a two lane road until we hit another section of motorway before turning off for the final 36km to Billund.

All along the road, masses of lupins are in full flower, in all shades from dark purple to white. I would have tried to take a shot, but I was fretting I would be late, so push on. Also, on occasion, what looked like Thrist along the side of the road, except where these have been mown. A few years ago they were so think beside the road, it looked like a pink carpet. But not now.

I arrive at the airport, quarter past seven. I have 75 minutes before the flight, would I make it?

I check in, there is no queue so I am through there in seconds, and in security there is also no queue, so my bag and I are scanned and passed fit to fly, so I can put my belt back on, repack the bag and go upstairs.

I have an hour to kill.

Panic over.

I buy breakfast; a roll and some nutella along with a huge coffee, and sit at a table to munch and slurp breakfast. I look round the shop, buy nothing, and at ten pat eight I wander down to the gate, through immigration just as the ten of us are allowed on the plane.

I take my usual seat in 8A and settle down, managing to stay awake as the crew prep the flight, dish out safety advice the the pilot starts the engines.

I take one sho as we take off, looking at the green fields, hedges and woods before it is all lost in a haze as we climb higher and higher. I close my eyes, miss the fruit juice being served and breakfast. I wae when the plane is shaking due to turbulence, and I imagine it plunging to the sea, but as soon as it stops, I am relaxed again.

Britain is lost in low cloud below, in fact there had been thunderstorms, torrential rain and flooding since I left, and with the fog rising the evening before, I expected to be delayed getting home. Instead we plunge through the low clouds, emerging just before we skip over the river to land, touching down just before nine, and hopefully with enough time to catch the earlier train home.

I am through immigration and get my case and onto the station in 5 minutes, I have three minutes to wait for the train to Stratford, heck its not even as full as usual. I reach the International station at half past, 14 minutes to spare, so I amble over, check the board and go down to the platform, have just enough time to book a taxi from Dover to home before the train is approaching me from out of the tunnel.

I get on board and have my favoured seat, so I can keep an eye on my case, and be on the right side for the landmarks I like to tick off as we go towards Kent.

Its a cloudy day, but bright. Anyway I have work to do when I get home, as I have been checking mails since landing as they are really piling up.

At Dover the taxi is not there. I watch as other passengers climb into waiting taxis and are gone, while I stand like a lemon. At eleven, I call the cabbie. Sorry, just busy, he says. I will get into one from the rank I says, so I can be home soon.

I instruct the cabbie where to go, and sets off telling me the news though a cabbie's filter. Local news anyway.

We get home, and before going in I inspect the garden, including paying close attention to my orchid, which now has four leaves. The foxgloves and lupins are in flower, and looking wonderful, even though they were not yet fully out.

Inside, I have lunch, a brew then sit down to work, pinging mails back, so the afternoon slips by. I give up when Tim calls to ask about my last reply, and I look at it and don't understand it either.

Time for the weekend.

Jools comes home, we break out the ice creams and sit in the garden, discussing our weeks, and just enjoying the peace and quiet. Or do once we had fed the cats.

We watch a program on American art, have dinner or more burgers, as its all I felt like cooking, before we sit down to watch The Don talk about flowers and compost. Dirty Monty