But I won't see any of it, as I am here for work, and today, its showtime.I have a shower and get dressed, then go down to the breakfast bar to meet the others and discuss final details.
I have just fruit and coffee. Lots of coffee. While the others have omelettes and rolls. I sit and sip on yet more coffee.
Wagons roll at quarter past eight, so we were all down in the lobby, having checked out and with just a walk over the square to the customer's offices.
Cease fine, we're going in.
And five hours later, we are done.
And we walk out, breath a sigh of relief and go to a nearby cafe to discuss who does what in the next 24 hours. My colleagues go to their cars for the drive back to Denmark, and I go to the metro station over the road to start my trip back to the airport.
I have lots of time, as I am booked on a flight two hours later than normal, so to avoid the worst of the traffic, meaning I am not rushing around. So this gave me the time to stand on the balcony at the station to look at trains coming and going for a while.
Then, over to platform three to the S1 lines, and by now I know I to get into the front three carriages, as these will be the only ones that will go to the airport.Another trip nearly over, so I watch the city slip by as the train takes me north to the airport.
With no bags to check in, I can just flash my e mailed boarding pass and go straight through security, and not wait until two hours before the flight when the desk is manned.
I find a place to sit and do some work, send e mails that are the actions I have. And I am all caught up.
Time drags, but better to wait here rather than sit on the M25 in traffic. Or that's what I tell myself.
At five I go to the gate, and find a crowd already waiting an hour before boarding. So, I find a place to sit and people watch. Most are business types, while there are some families, and a crew of folks heading back home on their offshift from some wind project. They are sinking half litres of beer, apparently having a great time.
There is a huge gaggle of people waiting to rush the gate when the flight is called, which I don't join in, as I have a small rucksack, so don't need space in the overhead locker, which by the time I board is full, and people are walking up and down looking for space for their cases and bags. But we all get on, and I settle down to snooze the flight through, trying to ignore the fidget behind me who manages to kick the back of my seat every 5 minutes.
We launch into the air, just as dusk is falling, and soon all is lost from sight as we pass through the clouds. It was a flight of only just over an hour, so time for the crew to come round to sell us some overpriced M&S sandwiches before we were dropping down over Kent, circling once and then on final approach through thick clouds until as we pass over Stamford Brdge, all lit up for a Europa League game comes into view, then lower and,lower until we touch down.
After landing, there is a scramble to be off first, or to get their bags. I tell myself a minute spent here is a minute less in jams on the motorway.
I get off, walk quickly to immigration, am through that, through baggage reclaim and into the arrivals hall, walking through the taxi drivers waiting with printed sheets looking for passengers, into the parking garage and to the car hire office, where just showing my membership card gets me a set of car keys, no paperwork, and i am told we are ready to go.
I have a Vauxhall pretend offroad thing, but its OK. I program the radio for 6 Music, and I engage a gear and lurch off.
It was dark, of course, and drizzling, but no traffic on the M25 or M20, and I am home in 90 minutes, getting back at half nine, 14 hours after the working day began.
Jools had waited to see me home, but is tired, so she goes to bed while I make a brew and toasted cheese sandwich.
And by the time I have eaten, it is half ten, and I need to be up in 7 hours.
But it will be Friday.
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