Monday 16th May 2022

Monday.

Well.

I had noticed from the DLR that the bridge I had hoped to walk to the station across had no footpath, so that meant booking a taxi for half six, and having breakfast at six.

I set the alarm for half five, was dressed and checked out by the time breakfast was ready, and the taxi appeared early too.

All was going well.

He drove me across the bridge and down to the airport, 5 minutes which cost £15. I paid and entered the hall with the desks, and to my amazement there was no line at KLM.

I checked in, dropped my bag and walked to security, and was through that in ten minutes.

Since I was last here, many more seats had been installed, so I sat to wait for my flight at twenty to nine, two hours away.

Two flights left to AMS at the same time, mine and a British Airways one. And one was cancelled, I thought it was mine. Ten minutes panic until it was pointed out that it was, in fact, the BA one cancelled.

Panic over.

LCY is great as it operated a “flight line”, with jets arriving and turning tightly at each gate to face back outside, so I found somewhere to sit and watch.

The flight was delayed nearly an hour, but no worries as I had a long layover in Amsterdam, so plenty of time and no worries.

I had a coffee, some shortbread, by which time the plane arrived and the gate was open. I wandered down and soon we were allowed on, and to my surprise, the flight was less than half full, and I have the rear seven rows of seats to myself.

The flight was uneventful, enjoyable even. I had a coffee and yet another cake, and as usual we flew over one of the windfarms I had helped to build as we turned onto finals.

Once down, the plane taxied for 15 minutes, seemingly heading into the centre of the city, passing over two motorways before pulling up at a distant parking slot, where two buses came to collect us to take us to the terminal.

And that’s where the problems started. Signs pointing to connections began to contradict each other, so I had to make a choice.

At the entrance to the immigration hall, the word “connections” was crossed out on the signs, so I had to decide, turn round or go on.

I went on.

And half an hour later when I reached the immigration officer, he asked me what brought me to the Netherlands. I told him I was travelling onto Denmark. I was in the wrong place, I had to sit on the side and wait for security to take me and an Irish guy back through the one way doors.

Forty five minutes passed.

A nice young lady came and took us on a quick march round and through various halls, meaning we had to go through another security check.

Which is how they discovered the bottle of juice in my bag.

The queue for the unplanned security check to another hour. And once through I still had to get through immigration, and the queue for passport control stretched across the terminal building. A large sign above said if your flight was more than two hours away, go and do something else.

So, I did. I went for lunch.

I went to a sushi bar and had sushi and a salad. And read.

Time dragged or flew. But 90 minutes later the queue for passport control had died down, so I joined it and twenty minutes later I was through and in the EU. I also had a gate to go to, to went to C6, some 15 minutes away, found a seat and read.

I looked up and saw that the flight was delayed by nearly two more hours, meaning I would have spend eight hours in Amsterdam by the end.

Sigh.

So I read some more, went to buy a Coke and some chocolate, and in such ways the two hours dragged by, and at half five, we could board. I thought the flight would be barely half full, I mean who would want to travel to Billund at six in the evening?

Many people, apparently.

I get my set and carry on reading. The flight filled up.

Just 45 minutes to Billund, we get off and go to the arrivals hall to pick up our bags, and the baggage ramp broke again.

Over a hundred of us waited and waited while nothing happened.

Just three bags had been delivered.

It did start up again, and my bag was one of the first off, so I grabbed it and rushed to the car hire place, where my keys were waiting: a BWM 220 I was told.

I had no idea.

But it was on the prestige lot, which was a good sign. Another good sign was the “M” badge meaning it was the sporty model with lots of horses.

I put my bags in the back, squeeze myself in the front, start the engine, and off I went.

Roaring into the evening.

It was quarter to eight. I had been travelling 13 hours.

The route to Aarhus never really changes, so I cruise down familiar roads to the motorway, then race an Audi down the ramp and out into the traffic. It was a struggle to hold the car at the limit as it was always eager to go ever faster. VROOM! The car is fun. It is an electric aquamarine blue, and is rather fetching. I might take it home. I arrived at Aarhus in the glow of the late evening sunshine, casting a golden hue over everything. I arrive at the hotel, find a parking spot and go to check in, but find there was a queue of a dozen people already waiting. It was a quarter to nine, and I was hungry. I ask in the restaurant if I could eat before checking in, and was told I could. So, no needing to see the menu, I order a burger with bacon and cheese, and it soon arrives along with a large classic beer. And the queue was gone once I had eaten, so I can check in, go to my room and go to bed.