Friday 11th March 2022

I had set my alarm on the phone, but I didn't trust it to go off. It has this don not disturb thing in which during the night it makes no sound. So, I wake up twice to check it to make sure I hadn't overslept, so even though I was in bed six hours, I didn't get that much sleep.

I had to get up at quarter to four, as my flight to Amsterdam, the first of the morning out of Billund, left at 06:00, and I always allow two hours to check in, doubly so at a small airport like Billund. When I was awake and packing, I wondered if I was overly dramatic, but I had heard the sound of case wheels over the brick path outside from half three, so I suspect there would be some people there.

What I found, however, was the departure hall packed. I had checked the evening before, so knew where to queue, so I went to area D and was about 20th in line for the KLM desk, five minutes after I arrived, the desks opened, and behind me there was another 20 people waiting.

The line moved quickly , I handed the lady my passport, and the boarding card was clearly marked with "ready to fly", showing I had completed the pre-flight checks to London. She took my case and wished me a good day.

Simple.

And wonder of wonders, Billund have had new baggage scanners fitted, and throughput was easily doubled, there was no queue. I put my stuff in a tray and was through and going up to the gates with 90 minutes before departure time.

There already a queue at the coffee and cake shop by the gate, but upstairs the bar was free of customers. So I went up there and ordered a coffee and a sticky Danish cake for breakfast.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

By the time I was done, people were at table drinking half litres of fizzy lager; too early for me. Downstairs, I found a quiet place to sit and wait, people watching.

The flight is called, so I go and hang back while the usual suspects wait in line to board the flight so they could bag a slot in the overhead locker for their cases. I had my computer bag, and that was it, so I could hold onto that.

I was just about the last person on the plane, settling into a window seat over the wing. Boarding complete, the plane was pushed back, the engines start and we trundle to the piano keys, engines roar and we race down the runway and into the dawn sky, leaving Denmark far below.

I accept a coffee on the short flight, but no snack; a cheese roll.

As we turn onto final approach, the sun showed over the horizon to the south east, but as we got lower it slipped back under. It wasn't until we were back on the ground and waiting to leave the aircraft that we saw the second, and proper, sunrise.

Looking across the landscape, where ancient polders were separated by ditches and dikes, north Netherlands seem to be made with as much water as land, and the water reflected the pink sky.

We land, and the taxi from the distant runway to the gate too nearly 15 minutes.

I had an hour here before my next flight, it shouldn't be tight. But then, you never know.

The gate was showing, so I made way way to the central hub then out to gate D8 where there was no waiting area. I thought about it, and after saw people going in, I go in to.

For those who did not complete the online process, a COVID test needed to be taken as well as passport checks. As I was marked ready to fly, I bypassed the COVID test and a quick scan of my passport, a sticker was attached to the back of my ticket and stamped with the date.

Only then was I told that the real gate was D54. Only those who completed the test were told of the actual departure gate.

I had already gone through immigration, and my exit from the EU was confirmed. A bit of a wait, but no more than ten minutes.

At the gate, there was the usual scramble to be first on the plane, but I saw some passengers who were being denied boarding, they had to wait in another queue, possibly waiting for COVID test, but at least two never got on, and the flight was delayed as their cases were taken off the plane.

But twenty minutes late, the door was closed and we were cleared to leave.

Holland was clear and sunny, but halfway across the Channel, as we had flown over Luchterduinen and Nobelwind, two on old projects, cloud obscured the ground, and I only got glimpses of Blighty down below.

We flew over Clacton, Walton on the Naze before flying round London from the north round to the west, before turning onto final over Windsor.

And we touched down, and taxied to Terminal 3, having to wait twenty minutes for a gate to become free.

Schiphol is a wonderful modern hub airport now, fit for the 21st century, you really feel that it is a place worth arriving in. Even terminal 5 at Heathrow is impressive, terminal 5 is like arriving and walking through the services tunnels under a hospital. Its really quite grim. Signage is unclear, and people were confused, only in English from what I remember.

I arrived at immigration, thinking that the e-gates would be for UK passport holders only, but no, EU and others could use them too. Only instruction on their use was woeful, most failing to get through. I got through on the second attempt, but no worries, as down in reclaim, our bags were yet to arrive.

We had to wait another twenty minutes for them to arrive, I grabbed my case and left to get to the station.

First train was in ten minutes, but was a Heathrow Connect service that stopped at six station on the way to London. I asked when the next Express was due, and told five minutes after the Connect, and the later train would get into London 10 minutes before the earlier train.

I wait for the Express, so it was half full, as most had got on the earlier train.

Now, it took longer to get home from here than it did to get from Denmark to London, by a whole hour.

At Paddington, I decided due to the early start and I was pooped, I would get a taxi to St Pancras. A mistake as the bus lane has been removed partway along Euston Road, meaning all traffic is squeezed into two lanes, while the cycling lane was empty. I like cycle lanes, but this is plane crazy.

I had 40 minutes before my train to Dover, so went to Greggs for a pasty and a sausage roll, which is dirty, but the moment called for it.

I ate those sitting at the end of the Southeastern platforms, watching people rush for the soon to be departing train to Margate.

The Dover train came in, and we got on, man, I was bushed.

I sat on the right side of the train, and waited for it to leave.

I won't dwell on the trip, we all know it well.

I arrived at twenty to one, and having booked a taxi, it was waiting for me, ready to take me home to St Maggies. It dropped me off at the end of the road, leaving me the 100m walk along the street to home.

Home. At last.

I check the garden for emerging and blooming flowers and plants, before going in. Where no cats were stirred by my return.

I made a brew and a bowl of fruit and yogurt, which I had just finished when Jools came home.

The afternoon passed with me posting shots on Flickr, and as each day was posted, I uploaded the blog I had written for each day.

Jools went swimming, while I stayed home to do the music quiz, and came fourth because I remembered Billy Idol was in The Wedding Singer.

Jools came back with KFC, which we devour.

It was just after eight.

We went to bed.

Phew.

I am the weekend.