Tuesday 26th June 2018

At least in mid-summer, when the alarm goes off at half four, it is light and the sun will soon rise.

I am off to Denmark to attend a meeting, that is mandatory once a month, nothing else to go for, but I arrange some social stuff at the same time, so not at all a waste.

It takes an hour to get our shit together, but we work well, making coffee, feeding the cats, then tidying up, getting dressed and all ready to leave the house at quarter to six. I had grabbed my passport out of the kitched drawer, popped it in my work bag with my travel itinerary and we left the house.

I get my ticket at Martin Mill, and stand on the platform admiring the sun pouring through the trees lining the line onto the track. It was most pleasant. Only four of us were waiting for the train, so when it pulled in we got into our seats and a few seconds later the train pulled out again. I look out of the window, waiting until we exit Guston Tunnel and I can see over the rooftops to the harbour. The line weaves its way round the downs, dropping in height all the time, until we reach Buckland and we join the line from Canterbury.

The train isn't quite full, even after we leave Ashford, I look out of the window, trying to identify all the plants growing in the tracks and embankments. Truly summer is here, and everywhere, even abandoned piles of ballast are full with open flowers.

We arrive in London, and I have my usual breakfast on Stratford station, read a bit of WSC before walking to the DLR station to catch the train to the airport. All was going well, I was not stressed and I was on time.

At the airport I go to check in, my booking is OK, all I have to do is scan my passport to complete my check in, and when I open the passport I see Jools' face looking back at me. Yes, somehow I had picked up the wrong passport the previous night, and just had not checked which one.

And there was nothing I could do. The BA desk told me the evening flight was full, did I want to fly in the morning? Meaning I would arrive after the meeting; no point.

I cancel my ticket and walk back to the DLR station to go back home.

I get to Stratford on a packed train with 5 minutes before a Dover train was due, I climbed down the stairs to the platform, wait near the front of the train would stop, then wait until the train arrived.

I called my boss to let her know; she's not angry, no point in that, but I am telling myself as soon as I get home to put my passport in my work bag like I used to, just to be sure of this never happening again.

I look at the countryside passing by as the train heads south, a glorious day but with clouds over the Channel as we reach Folkestone.

There was a wait for a taxi, as for some reason all cabs in the town are full. I try to call my usual company, but they're not even picking up, so I wait in line.

Back home there is a feline welcome, I open the house up, open the windows too, and make a brew then set about starting work for the day, explaining to my manager what had happened and why I would not be in the office later.

That is it for the day, really.

Work. Lunch. Work, work whilst watching football, as Denmark played, and most of the folks in head office went home early for the day. They drew 0-0 with France, so they both went through, the players kind of agreeing to just knock the ball around.

Jools comes home, I make breaded chicken and lentil dahl; all good stuff, so I can be done to watch the game in the evening, Argentina play Nigeria, hoping for an upset. But, Argentina just hold on, and really were the better side. Not helped though seeing Maradona high on drugs and apparently asleep during the game.

Oh well.

And that is another day over with.