Friday 8th February 2019

Friday morning, and I am awake at five in the morning (DK time) listening to the dustcart emptying the bins far below my room. I check my phone and I see I have half an hour before I need to be up.

So, I lay in bed, just enjoying the luxury of being able to, and all I have to do is make sure I get to the airport in time, so no stress.

I get up and pack, dress and go down to check out.

Outside, there is no rain, but the roads are wet, and dawn looks a good 90 minutes away.

I load the car with my bags, get in and start the engine: last leg.

I drive out of the town, as people are heading into the port to begin their day, I drive on, past slow moving lorries onto the motorway, and turning up the 30 north to the airport. It is just a 40 minute run, mostly along dead straight roads, making overtaking easy.

I do blast past one truck who indicates that the road is clear, I drop a cog and the car powers on by.

The rental parking lot is full, so I have to park in the road, taking my bags and hurrying to the terminal in the cool morning air.

I check my case in, but I see there is a queue at security, so I go to the cafe for a nutella roll and a coffee, sitting watching people hurry by. I have 90 minutes to get through security. Plenty of time.

There is building work being down, and the tables I usually sit at are all gone and the space closed off behind chipboard. But as a budget fligt is called, tables are cleared and I grab one to sit down at. I switch the laptop on and send a couple of important grenades.

I amble down to the gate with 20 minutes before departure time, and find the flight is pretty much full. We are allowed out to board, I am last so daudle and snap the Turkish budget plane parked at the gate next to ours.

I am in seat 8A, but with the wind blowing and rain coming down, almost as soon as we take off the ground is lost from sight as we enter the heavy and dark clouds. So, I pass on breakfast and snooze the flight through, finding Billy's words making my eyelids drop.

If anything, the weather back near to London is worse, there is a strong breeze and thick clouds making the ground invisible from the flight. The engines labour as the plane banks this way and that, it is worrying.

The undercarriage is lowered and flaps deployed. Still no sign of the ground. And as we get lower the plane starts to sway one way and then the other. The nose dips and then lifts up. It seems the captain is having trouble.

The ground comes into view, Burmarsh Prison, meaning we were about 30 seconds from the runway, but these last seconds were the worse as the plane rocks this way and that and the engines roar.

We get lower, then just before we touch down there is a strong sidewind, so when the wheels, sorry wheel, touches down, we are only on just the one wheel, and out of my window all I can see is runway. The pane lurches to the right and the other wheels are down, the nose wheel touches down and the pilot puts on full reverse. The plane swerves, but the worse is over.

Phew.

We get off at gate 10, meaning we have the full length of the termnal to walk down to immigration, then baggage reclaim before walking out to the DLR station.

A train to Stratford comes in, so I get on, but there is no time for me to catch the early train, meaning I will have 50 minutes to wait, so I think about what to have for 2nd breakfast/lunch.

So I go into the cafe at the station, have a gingerbread latte with an extra shot to go with the fresh sausage roll I hear myself order that too.

Whilst eating and drinking, I finish the book, so have nothing to do. Other than stand on the platform and wait for Eurostars to hammer past and I think of new ways of snapping them.

My train pulls in at quarter to eleven, I get in a seat and close my eyes. I suddenly feel very tired indeed. And sad.

No real reason, just very morose.

My mood lightens as I get nearer to the coast, although the rain is falling. Hard.

As the train passes along the sea wall at Shakespeare, the waves are crashing on the beach, causing clouds of spray to drench the train.

I get a taxi back home, arriving home just after midday. I have been on the go for eight hours, and I am done. I make a huge brew, scoff the last of the digestives as I watch Only Connect.

Jools has trouble getting home as the Roundhill Tunnels are closed due to bad weather, so I guide her home thanks to live traffic updates.

It was now the weekend.

We have a brew.

Jools is on a diet, more of that another time, so she has bought me a small steak and ale pie. I cook that and lots of veg, Jools has some steamed chicken to go with her veg, and we sit down to have a meal with each other.

For the evening's entertainment, we play Uckers, and I end up being triumphant once again.Uckers update: