Monday 15th July 2019

There are times in life when our paths change.

My path has been straight and narrow, at least as far work is concerned, for some six years now. And yet, it is likely that this will be my last trip to Esbjerg for a while, maybe ever.

I have a new job to do, with different places to visit, maybe just in UK, so instead of Esbjerg I will be going to Barrow, Hull or Aberdeen.

And it will be to Aberdeen I will go to first, in the very near future, and already I am planning how to get there, train with a first class supplement seems to be the best way, at least for me. A window seat all the way up the east coast.

Sounds good. But I will miss Esbjerg, and Denmark. I have grown to like the place, and the staff in the Scandic, but we all move on.

So, Monday, another trip to Denmark, but rather different. As because of the summer holidays, there is no direct flights from London City, I have to catch an early evening flight from Heathrow. Which means a lay in, but travel during the day.

Jools makes coffee, then gets ready for work, leaving me with the computer and a stack of receipts to scan ready for a travel expense claim.

I also check on work mails, get answers sent off, so I won't have that much to do in the morning. It is a fine day, too nice to be travelling, but next week, my precious.

At half eleven I call for a taxi, and it arrives at quarter past midday, dropping me off in time to get my ticket and wait on the platform. Not often I leave from Dover now, quite pleasant in the sunshiiiiine.

The train comes and I get into a seat on my favoured side, and off we go, this time going all the way to St Pancras, enjoying the day and amazed that the harvest had already begun, with fields of straw already drying out in the sun, the ears safely combined away.

I had an hour in London before my train, but decide to walk through the undercroft to the Circle Line, get a train to Paddington where I go to the micropub on the platform for a well deserved pint of Speckled Hen. Afterwards I take some shots of the shiny all electric trains, now that the HSTs have gone, the station seems quieter.

I get on a Heathrow Express, and that whisks us through west London to Slough, then via a tunnel to the airport and me to terminal 5.

After going to departures, checking in my case, I make my way through security and out the otherside to Wagamamas, or whatever its called, for an early dinner of somethinged lamb and noodles and bang bang cauliflower.

And water.

It was pretty good, and the company paid. I then found a place to sit and read a while until it was time to check the gate and make my way there via the electric shuttle train to the C gates, where hundreds were already waiting for the plane.

I am a frequent flyer, so get to board first, meaning we get to stow our oversized bags while the proles scramble for whats left. Only I have my work satchel, and have no need of overhead storage space.

I am already shagged out and close my eyes as the plane fills.

The plane is full, and we have to pay for food and drink. I will wait until I get to the hotel.

The evening sun streams in through the window, I shield my eyes as the plane taxis and waits for a slot, then into the air, circling over north London allowing me to get a shot of Wembley, whilst looking into the sun.The shot just about comes off.

I snooze on the way over, waking up as we pass over a carpet of clouds, over into Denmark and down, down, through the clouds and onto land where gravity takes back charge.

Normally there are 30 or fewer getting of the plane from London City, this time 150, and still the same to immigration officials. I am nxt to last, and takes half an hour to have my passport scanned.

There is a queue at the car hire, but a friendly face behind the counter seems me and passes me my car keys and I can go.

Driving down the long straight road to Esbjerg in the gloaming, I think to myself, hope I don't see any yellow flashing lights as it might be a turbine component in transit.

I see yellow flashing lights, and soon I am behind a massive tower section. I think I know a short cut, if I head west I will come to the Varde to Esbjerg road.

I hurtle into the gathering darkness, through sleeping villages, but I was right. At each junction the road got larger and wider, and soon I was on familiar ground, passing the warehouse that was built to make it look like a castle (true), then straight on to Esbjerg and the hotel, where I get a parking space opposite.

I check in, get two bottles of Coke and mini tubes of Pringles to have in my room. It is already half eleven, and I am beyond tired.