Wednesday 19th February 2020

Back in the jugg agane.

Or back on the commute to Denmark. And this means being up at oh so early hundred hours when it is still dark and the cats still asleep. Yes, that early.

Jools makes coffee, and I get dressed. We barely talk, but we are ready to leave the house, or would have been until I checked Twitter and find that that the line between Dover and Folkestone is closed, and my train is cancelled.

Eeeek! What to do? Well, trains are running from Ashford, so Jools says she will take me there and I should be able to get into London easy enough.

So instead of washing up and filling the bird feeders, we are heading off down Jubilee Way then up the A20 towards Folkestone and Ashford. At least we have the choice to do this.

I stumble out of the car and grab my case and bag, walk into the station to get my ticket.

All going well.

Up on the platform, next train was in twenty minutes, and few people around, should be fine.

I wait, and to the left the sky brightens, and stars go out as daylight wins the battle. I take a shot of the sky contrasting with the station lights.

By the time the train arrived, the platform was heaving, and the train was already half full, so I am happy enough to get on and stand the twenty minutes into London.

It is almost daylight, so I was able to look out of the door windows at the passing countryside, while commuters stare blankly at their phones or laptops, ever-connected to an ever-crazy world. I look at the wading birds on Rainham marshes, they watch episodes of The Masked Singer. I believe I get the better deal.

Off at Stratford, walk to the DLR and a 20 minute ride to the airport, where it is quite busy. Very busy for a Wednesday, but it is school holidays, and many of the little darlings are being dragged to the slopes for some skiing.

I check my case in, walk to the security and wait to pass through.

And once through I go to have breakfast. And I am hungry so go for the full English option, with no tomato but toast as a substitute. And coffee. Thing is, the big meal is not that much more expensive than eggs Benedict, so, I tuck in.

That done, I find a place to sit and read. And people watch. Mainly people watch. And wonder who really pays four thousand pounds for a watch that just tells the time. Sure, it looks nice, but my fifteen dollar Timex from Walmart in Cody, Wyoming, still is telling perfect time.

The flight is called and I join the eight other passengers at the gate, waiting for our tiny plane to arrive and incoming passengers get off.

Time passes.

We board, I take my seat in 8A, and the flight makes ready, we taxi to the far end of the runway, wait our turn before the engines roar, and we trundle off down the runway and climb into the misty air, bouncing along until we turn to the north east, giving us on the left and side of the plane a look along the river that The City. Below, suburbia is laid out like a map, jammed with traffic in places, but soon giving way to farmland. We pass over the M25 then follow the A12 northwards to Chelmsford, Colchester and Ipswich before we turn a little eastward and cross the coast over Southwold.

I go back to read Private Eye as we head north, passing over the North Sea.

Denmark is not rainy. Not that much, and isn't hidden under black clouds, but some white fluffy ones. Though passing through them introduces some jumping around by the plane, and we are low enough to me consider how hard the ground would be if we crashed. Saying that, Denmark is pretty flooded. Or if not flooded, then saturated. Ploughed fields look more like paddy fields, and so I consider how well rice might grow this far north. Not that well, I decide.

We land, and once through immigration and collecting my case, the car hire place has my keys ready, so in a few minutes I am in the car wondering why I can't hear the engine when I turn the ignition key.

After five minutes I realise that the car is a hybrid, and the lack of sound is the electric motor ready for action. I see the sign, "ready to drive" light up, so engage drive and away we go, the engine cutting in soon after as I accelerate away.

I know the rad to Aarhus so well that I really don't think about it that much, it seems the car knows the way.

I arrive at the office just before two, so go to my department's offices and say hi to my friends/colleagues, and get down to check mails.

Soon after I arrive, many of them are going home already, as most leave the office just after three. Some will log on at home in the evening, most won't though.

I wait to five before leaving, as the traffic will be unbearable before, then take the road into the main inner ringroad, then along to the art museum and the hotel next door.

I park outside and check in, drop my case and bag in my room, but go straight back out to do some photography before the forecasted rain arrives.

It is getting dark, and the lights of shops and bars reflect off the wet cobbles in a photogenic kind of way. I walk down to the canal, through the old town, then to the main square, past the cathedral and theatre to the Highlander Bar where I decide a pint of something dark and mysterious would be suitable. Especially as the rain had just started.

Indeed, when I leave the bar after the single beer rain was falling harder still, so I walk back down the canal to see if I could get a table at the smokehouse, but it is full as Wednesdays are eat as much hot wings day, so it is rammed. I walk back up the hill to the hotel, take a seat in the restaurant and order burger and fries and a dark beer. They have salted caramel stout, which is powerful stuff.

Turns out that was all I needed, the strong beer soon smothers the sweet notes of the caramel.

But is good.

Back to the room to watch football. Being in Denmark the Champion's League is on free to air, or on one of the channels I could get in my room anyways.

I watch the first half of Spurs v Liepzig, but sleep through the second and the game is over when I wake up. So I go back to sleep.

Goodnight, Vienna. Or Aarhus.